#is when she just grows quiet / apathetic and shuts you out for a while
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alcohol is just one of milou's biggest, if not THE coping mechanism for practically everything. she's well aware that it's not healthy but could give zero shits about it. she doesn't grow violent nor directly impacts other people around her — she really just wants to grow numb and for other people to mind their own business.
it doesn't concern them, so what gives them the right to dictate what she should and shouldn't do? usually, milou really does not care what others think about her, but this is different.
it takes a great amount of trust between her and another person to even hear them out and not grow hostile or outright lash out at them (both verbal and physical) if they try to intervene. weirdly enough though, her stoic demeanour persists if a complete stranger decides to comment on her habits. it's only when there's at least some rapport between her and the person in question that she grows increasingly hostile.
the sheer audacity that you think you're entitled to broach the topic of something that makes her feel so vulnerable — something that she thinks has become such an integral part of her by now.
#headcanons tbt.#anyway who's gonna be milou's 'i can fix her'#it's basically a fuck-around-and-find-out-meter to gauge your friendship lvl with milou#the more violent the less progress you have#the furthest point most people that even get that close to her#is when she just grows quiet / apathetic and shuts you out for a while#and if she actually decides to hear you out and consider your words?#man you are SPECIAL special#quite literally built diff fr#alcohol abuse tw#also though when she's still hostile towards you#her verbally lashing out will always be a part of it#but the more rapport there is#the less she's inclined and hesitates to literally beat the person up lol
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Burning Hearts: Chapter Seven
(AO3 counterpart here.)
Family was still on Fireheart’s mind when he went to bed, and it was the first thing he thought of when he woke up. He said nothing to anyone except distracted greetings when spoken to. He hardly even noticed the drizzle of rain passing over, pausing, and then resuming as he ate his breakfast, his fur growing wetter and wetter. All he could see was Rosy and a very, very faded image of his mother—or, at least, someone that smelled like motherhood, like Goldenflower did.
What blinked him back to the present was a white shape emerging out of the nursery as Goldenflower dipped into it. He had to focus his eyes again to see Frostfur, stretching various parts of her body with great relish and several yawns.
“Good evening!” he said as he sat up, happy for the interruption.
Frostfur half-nodded, half-tilted her head at him. Her expression was, as always, distant and vaguely apathetic with him, but she responded with a polite, “Good evening.”
Fireheart kept up his chipper tone. “It’s been a while! How are you?”
This did get a more relaxed light in her eyes. “Happy to be outside again. Never knew how much I’d miss getting rained on after being in one den for so long.”
“Well, it’s good to see you back out here,” Fireheart said, and as she went for the prey-pile, he added, “There’s a dry woodrat at the bottom.”
Frostfur flicked her tail in acknowledgement and pawed through the stack of prey until she pulled out the woodrat. To Fireheart’s surprise, she actually came a little closer and sat across from him, out in the open, and set to sniffing the woodrat over.
“How are your kits?” he asked. “They aren’t giving you too much trouble?”
This got a twitch of the whiskers. “They’ve been just fine. Their ears are opened up…” Her voice quieted a little, and became more unsure. “Except for Snowkit. He’s the last one.”
Fireheart tilted his head. “‘Opened up?’”
“Yes. They can hear now.”
“They couldn’t hear before?”
Frostfur just barely squinted at him, before realization flickered in her eyes. “You haven’t been around kits, have you?” When Fireheart shook his head, she continued, “Kits are born blind and deaf. Their eyes are shut and their ears won’t perk up until they’re about a month old.” She paused, hesitant, and then added, “All of them have their eyes open. We’re just waiting for Snowkit’s ears, and then they’ll be done.”
Fireheart nodded. “And what about the others? I haven’t seen them at all. What are they like?”
“We have four,” Frostfur said, her voice growing warm. “Snowkit, he’s white, and Brightkit is patched—ginger and white. She’s our only molly. And we have two more, Brackenkit and Thornkit. They’re both a brown sort of gold, but Thornkit is darker.” She lifted her chin with some pride. “All four of them made it. We haven’t lost any.”
“That’s wonderful!” Fireheart beamed at her. “Are they all big like Lionface?”
A deep voice answered him. “Big and majestic already.”
Fireheart looked up to see Lionface himself sauntering up from the entrance. Frostfur purred as he sat down beside her and rested his head against her shoulder for a moment.
“They’re even starting to grow manes like mine,” he added to Fireheart with a puffed out chest, his neck-fur flared out perfectly. “They’ll be the most beautiful and handsome cats in ThunderClan when I’ve gone old and white. Not that they won’t beat me by the time they’re warriors—”
“You’re not catching any mice on that trail.” Frostfur tapped him with her long, white tail. “But fine. No one’s going to top you in looks. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Lionface’s eyes nearly shut with self-satisfaction. “Always happy to hear the facts.”
Frostfur snorted, but she looked at her mate with great fondness. To Fireheart, she said, “I’m looking forward to the kits being able to run around camp and pester everyone. They’ll probably be bigger than you by that time.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Fireheart chuffed. “Is there any chance I could see them now? I’d like to greet them when they’re still shorter than me.”
Unexpectedly, Frostfur stiffened up and the warmth in her eyes went out. Lionface noticed immediately and touched his nose to her cheek, but she stood up, took her prey, and trotted back to the nursery, disappearing into it without a sound.
Fireheart’s heart sank. “Oh… did I say something wrong? I thought that would be nice.”
Lionface stood and walked closer to him—just like his sister, he was well over twice Fireheart’s size, but the height difference failed to intimidate him anymore. Fireheart looked up at him as he stood over the much younger warrior. To his surprise, there was no sternness on his face, or any sort of look that was a cue for Fireheart being scolded.
“No,” he said, “you were being friendly. But toms aren’t allowed in the nursery, or near growing kits, unless they’re a seer or the father of the litter.”
Fireheart squinted, confused. “Why not?”
Lionface looked around, then lowered his head closer and spoke quietly. “Toms make queens nervous. It hasn’t happened in a long time, but toms that aren’t the father have attacked and killed new kits in the past.”
Horror raised the fur on Fireheart’s spine. “What?! Why?! That’s horrible!”
Lionface sighed. “It’s an urge one can’t control. A tom might feel the need for a queen to have kits that are his, and so he’s driven to kill those that aren’t. It happens with loners and kittypets.”
Kittypets… Fireheart’s stomach churned at the very notion.
“So there’s a complete ban on non-fathers or non-seers being near the nursery,” Lionface continued. “Why do you think Goldenflower stands guard over it all the time? She’s protecting the queens and kits alike, and making sure no one is visiting who shouldn’t.”
Fireheart stared at him, shaking his head. “That’s awful! I–I can’t imagine ever doing that. I couldn’t hurt a kit! Never!”
Lionface’s expression was one of unusual patience. “Now, you couldn’t, but you never know who the urge will strike. I don’t think you would either. That doesn’t mean you won’t.”
Fireheart’s mouth moved, but he couldn’t force out any words. Killing kits, just because they weren’t his… It made him sick just thinking about it. He was certain he never would, but…
“I guess…” he finally managed. “I guess I better stay away, then. It’s terrible that that would ever happen. I swear, I won’t hurt them when they come out here.”
This made Lionface twitch his whiskers. “They’ll be safe by then, don’t worry. It’s only with very young kits that this has happened. We can trust you with them once they’re out here.”
“Good… good.” Fireheart sighed himself, a much more distressed sound.
Lionface gave Fireheart a nod before turning and walking to the prey pile. Fireheart didn’t think to alert him to the dry prey this time, his stomach still wobbly and sloshing with the idea of kit-death. He had heard before that kits died fairly often from all manner of things, but kits being murdered… it was as bad as the loss of the kit-apprentices that had died in the battle with WindClan against ShadowClan and town cats.
This, of course, just made him feel sicker, so when Cinderpaw’s voice rocked the calm air of the camp, he eagerly looked her way for a distraction.
She was just hopping out of the ferns, shouting, “Come on, please? It could be important!”
The response was a string of cursing insults, barely kept at a mutter before a cranky and sleepy, “Fool girl, you haven’t even dreamed of anything.”
“It’s a sensation, prra*!” Cinderpaw protested. “I can feel it!”
Fireheart got up, forgetting his nearly-done prey as he stepped forward. “Feel what?”
“Oh!” Cinderpaw turned eagerly to him. “Fireheart! Take me out to the woods! Please? I gotta look for something!”
By this time, Yellowfang’s flat, dark face poked out of the shelter of the ferns, deeply wrinkled with annoyance.
“Getting ‘sensations’ all the time, now,” she growled to Fireheart. “And hardly any mean anything.”
“But some do!” Cinderpaw said quickly. “So that means I should check and make sure, right?”
Yellowfang muttered curses again and squinted at Fireheart.
Fireheart fought a snort back at the look on her face. “I can escort her. Go ahead and keep sleeping.”
Cinderpaw looked at Yellowfang, eyes wide in anticipation.
Yellowfang grunted, curtly nodded, and disappeared back into the ferns. “Don’t let her get herself killed.”
“YES!” Cinderpaw whipped around and dashed through the camp entrance before Fireheart could draw breath.
Fireheart ran after her, ducking through the bramble tunnel, and shouted, “Wait for me!” just as she was about to disappear from view again into the thick of the undergrowth.
“Sorry!” Cinderpaw stopped, dancing in place. “I just gotta find where this feeling’s coming from. I think it’s east of here. Near the road? I dunno. Can we go there?”
“We can go,” Fireheart said indulgently. “At a trot, please. It’s a little wet to be running around and getting muddy or slipping on something.”
“Okay!” Cinderpaw said, and trotted off, barely slow enough for Fireheart to follow without having to canter to keep up with her.
As it turned out, it was exceptionally easy to keep up with her, because every few steps she’d stop to paw at something on the side of the path or dive into the brush, sniff around and jump back with a disappointed look. Fireheart didn’t interrupt her, just watched with growing amusement and puzzlement at every “AHA!” followed by a small “Oh.”
“You’d think I’d find it first try by now,” she said to Fireheart with a frown. “I’ve been an apprentice for so long!”
Fireheart twitched his whiskers. “It’s only been a month and a half.”
“That’s long enough!” Cinderpaw stomped with a back foot, splashing mud on her hock. “I should be able to find my signs just like Yellowfang! She knows these things easily!”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, it took me some time before I could manage to even hunt,” Fireheart said, putting as much encouragement in his voice as he could. “And you’re getting better faster than I did.” He paused. “I think. I don’t know what it’s like to train as a seer.”
“Oh, it’s awesome!” Cinderpaw bounced on her pawpads, all disappointment forgotten. “I love it! It’s like–like—”
She waved a paw, starting and failing several sentences. Fireheart stood in patience, slowly starting to feel the rain, until Cinderpaw burst out with, “It’s like knowing everything!”
Fireheart paused. “…I’m not sure I follow.”
“It’s like, you just know, you know? Like–here!” Cinderpaw ducked her head into the foliage and, with a paw, scooped up a stray pigeon’s feather. “Take this. It’s just a feather for you, right? But if it was a sign, I would know what it meant. And it could mean so much!” She placed it on the ground and used one claw to pull the soft barbs, creating a wave like the wind pushing through grass. “StarClan could be telling me anything with a broken shaft or the slightest discoloration. Someone’s in danger, or a kit’s going to be born with a specific name. And I just know it!”
Fireheart regarded the little feather, shiny and grey. “I just see a feather, myself.”
“Exactly!” Cinderpaw said eagerly. “But I don’t! Well– I wouldn’t if it was an actual sign, but you know what I mean.”
“I do.” Fireheart gave her a purr. “That’s a really cool life to live, honestly. I’m almost jealous. I can’t see anything but for what it looks like.”
“Oh, you see right into people all the time,” Cinderpaw said, with a dismissive wave of her paw. “Your eyes burn.”
Fireheart blinked. “What does that mean?”
Cinderpaw opened her mouth, blinked herself, and returned to a frown. “I’m not sure, actually. That just came from nowhere.” She perked up. “That’s another fun thing! I get to say weird stuff and no one can make fun of me, because that’s what I’m supposed to do!”
Fireheart purred again. “Well, that’s something.”
“It is!” Cinderpaw suddenly turned sharply. “Oh! Right! Here, come on, I think it’s this way.”
Fireheart let her take the lead again. He quickly found himself regretting that, because she was much quicker now and less distracted. Her ears constantly swiveled and she sniffed deeply many times, enough that Fireheart wondered if she was following a scent he couldn’t smell. The pair trotted east, Cinderpaw only pausing a few times to check this mushroom or that fallen log before immediately taking off again, Fireheart almost having to canter anyway.
A familiar, unpleasant scent hit his nose after a while. When he focused on what was going on around him, he caught sight of the road—they were almost out of the forest, and Cinderpaw was still trotting on with determination, her nose now to the ground, heading straight for the gravel hill leading up to the road. Fireheart had to run ahead of her and stand in her way for her to stop and look up again.
“We probably shouldn’t get run over,” he said, and pointed with his tail at the black stone path.
Cinderpaw sighed with frustration. “It’s all the way out here? And I still can’t focus in on it!”
“Sorry,” Fireheart said. “What, exactly, are you trying to find?”
“Well…” Cinderpaw rolled a shoulder. “I’m not sure. It’s a sensation, you know? It feels like out here is important. I’ve been having dreams of some smell I can’t quite catch. The road reminds me of it, but… ugh!” She stomped a front foot this time. “Something really important is here, and I have no idea what it is! I don’t know if it’s an event, or a cat, or a sign, or– or–I don’t know! Fireheart, do you sense anything?”
Fireheart took a little time to scan his surroundings, but he only saw the end of the forest and the road. He sniffed and caught the stink of the road again. “Just what’s normally here, unfortunately.”
Cinderpaw groaned dramatically and hung her head. “StarClan, come on! I need to know what this is! I can feel that I need to know it, more than anything!”
“Is it really that big of a deal?” Fireheart tilted his head, not sure whether to be alarmed or excited.
“Whatever it is, I keep getting dreams of it,” Cinderpaw said. “But I forget all the details when I wake up! It’s so annoying!”
“It’s alright,” Fireheart said gently. “You’ll find it in time. You’ve still got some training to do, remember? I’m sure soon you’ll be able to find out what it means and remember all the details.”
Cinderpaw huffed, glowering at the road. “I better.”
Fireheart let her glare for a moment before shaking out his pelt and scattering water. “Well, in the meantime, we should probably get home. I’m soaked to the skin.”
“Oh, I know how you feel.” Cinderpaw turned as he did and trotted alongside him, less buoyant now. “The only thing on me that doesn’t feel the rain is my stupid tail!” She scowled at the lashing thing. “I don’t care if my tail’s wet! I want to be dry everywhere else!”
Fireheart chuffed. “Probably all those burrs you never clean out.”
“I clean them out!” Cinderpaw argued. “They just keep coming! It’s like I’m growing them myself!”
“Look on the bright side,” Fireheart said. “At least your fur there is too thick for fleas or ticks.”
Cinderpaw grumbled, an unusually creaky and nasally noise. “But I get those plenty everywhere else. Yellowfang says I need to stop sleeping in the thick grass, but she takes up most of the ferns! The grass is really soft too! I swear, it’s like—”
Fireheart listened to her gabber on as they walked, finding a new topic every few heartbeats and jumping between comically petulant complaining and eager declarations of things she loved and explanations of things Fireheart had no hope of understanding or keeping up with. He did his best not to tune her out, but after a while, his head was fluffy with all of her monologuing.
Thank the stars that Yellowfang’s her mentor and not me, he thought. I don’t think I could keep up with her.
*”Prra”: superior, master. Along the lines of calling someone “sir” or “ma’am”.
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Listen I know people say Kaz loves dogs but may I just suggest - Kaz slowly earning the trust of a feral cat who is just as weary of people as he once was:
(inspired by my own experience with a feral cat - with a little Kanej thrown in there because who do you think i am - and dedicated to my lovely murder wife @vampirewifee)
Kaz would often leave scraps out on the windowsill for the crows, but also as a sort of security system to make sure no one had tried to come in to his office (other than Inej of course)
But one day the window's left open while he steps out of his office for a minute and, when he comes back, he notices that two of the sausages have mysteriously gone missing from his plate by the windowsill.
The next day he leaves out a slice of chicken liver on the windowsill. Two hours later, out of the corner of his eye, he catches a black shadow race across the window. By the time he's made his way across the room, the figure, and the liver, is gone.
He thinks about bringing it up to Inej but instead decides to take on this little investigation himself. He will not be outbested by a simple chicken thief, and really what's another mystery to solve?
Three days later he sees it. A black cat, tail missing, left ear half bitten off from a scrap years ago, slowly making its way across the neighbouring roof. The second he makes eye contact with it, it raises its hackles and hisses at him.
"Nothing to fear little mutt. Want some turkey?" Kaz whispers, slowly reaching for his half eaten sandwich. But before he can make it to his desk the cat's disappeared. Kaz chuckles to himself. He knows all about his companions pulling off disappearing acts.
For the next week he keeps a small bag of cat treats in the pocket of his waistcoat. The local stray cats have started following him around. All but one specific midnight feral cat.
The only sign that he hadn't imagined the whole thing is the fact that the slice of tenderloin he leaves out every night (which he personally collects from the butchers every evening), is gone by the time he walks past the window on the way to get his third (or maybe fourth) mug of coffee for the night.
A fortnight later the offerings of the butcher's finest have increased to twice a day. Sometimes, if he's lucky, he'll catch a glimpse of the cursed thing. But only when the window's shut does it actually stay long enough for him to see, yellow eyes locked on his own. Daring him to come closer.
But Kaz only takes this a challenge. And by Ghezen does he love a challenge.
Finally, after two laborious months of sitting silently at the window, barely twitching a muscle, can he finally sit within reaching distance of the mangy thing without being hissed at. And yet he still makes no attempt to pet it. Not yet.
The Dregs have begun to notice the black cat slinking around the Slat windows. They toss it their lunch scraps, but none of them dare get any closer. Not after Rotty chanced it that one time and had to get 13 stitches on his palm. He was lucky not to lose his index finger.
One night, after a particularly rough mission that almost cost Kaz months of planning, he hears a scratching at the window.
Slowly he opens up to find the blasted cat. It hesitantly makes its way onto the bench right by the window. Still hissing. Its hind leg held up, clearly injured.
Kaz calls out to Anika to fetch for a medik. But as soon as she reaches the door of the office, the stupid cat bolts back out the window, still injured, into the night.
Kaz had almost resigned himself to never seeing the cursed thing again after Anika's stunt but lo and behold, three days later it makes a reappearance. The injured leg is in much worse shape and, despite the years spent on the streets in the Barrel, Kaz can't help but feel his throat tighten at what's been done to this creature.
Pushing away his thoughts he springs into action - shutting the window closed to prevent the thing from pulling another runner. By some miracle sent from one of Inej's Saints Kaz manages to hold the creature long enough, yowling the whole time but not fighting back, for the medik to come.
At first the cat refuses to be tended to by the medik, hissing and scratching, until Kaz plants himself right beside it, whispering soothingly. Not knowing what to say exactly, Kaz opts to give an account of the Merchant Council's tradings in the last quarter. But it seems to work nevertheless and the beast stills.
Several long hours, a hoarse throat, and a nearly blinded eye on the medik's part later, the broken leg is finally treated and bandaged up. Inej speaks to the medik outside while Kaz treats the cat with little bites from the pound of turkey breast he had Pim fetch from the butcher's. She's told that the cat will recover just fine but that the delay in getting treated means that the leg didn't set quite right. "It seems we've got a mini Kaz on our hands now," Inej smiles to herself as she recounts the news to Kaz. Kaz is just glad the cat was saved, although he'd never admit it aloud.
As it recovers, the cat becomes a common presence around the Slat, although it still hesitantly sticks to the shadowed doorways and hisses at anyone but Kaz. Sometimes even Kaz.
Inej grumbles about Kaz being the only one the thing doesn't hiss at. "Jealous Wraith?" Kaz laughs, eyes twinkling.
The ebony cat often sits precariously on the cabinet by the window, but it still gets skittery when the window's closed at times. Kaz chuckles to himself about it. "I know someone else with a penchant for quick rooftop escapes".
But ever so slowly, it begins to get comfortable around Inej. The first time Inej climbed in through the window while the cat was inside the closed office, it went crazy - its only exit route blocked with no way out. But eventually it grows accustomed to Inej's presence at the window. The catnip Inej always has on hand definitely helps.
One evening though, as the sun's almost completely dipped beneath the harbour, Inej begins to hear a low rumble. Her eyes snap to Kaz and his eyes are just as wide as hers. He hears it too. An unmistakable purr coming from the cat perched on the window across from Inej. Eyes closed, face turned towards the last warm streaks of disappearing light.
It's months later and the cat has become Kaz's second shadow (or third, depending on who you're talking to). He refuses to give it a name, referring to it exclusively as "Cat", "Chicken Thief", "Mangy Thing" and a slew of other apathetic descriptors. But Inej isn't at all fooled by Kaz's air of disdain - not when she's seen the portion of funds he spends on the best cuts of meat every month. She's even caught him cooing at the thing in the dead of night a couple times.
One day Inej grows tired of the odour emanating off the once feral cat and decides to haul both it and Kaz (who are both inexplicably hissing) into the bathroom to get them both cleaned up, because in Inej's words, "If you won't rest like a functioning human, the least you can do is smell like one".
However the only time Kaz actually sleeps is when the cat is sitting on his lap. Despite the museum blueprint he's been working on for three days straight, the purring lulls him into a quiet sleep and he wakes up feeling better rested than he has in years. It eventually becomes a habit and Kaz cannot drift off without that familiar weight on his chest rumbling quietly.
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And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Fourteen: Half-Sick of Shadows
Hello again! This is instalment 14 of my Chishiya x OC/reader fic. You’ll also find it over here on AO3 too.
Thanks for all the support so far, and all of the people who have gone through every chapter and liked them. It means so much to see that you’re enjoying this <3
childlikeempress/mercipourleslivres - I have a feeling you’ll get this chapter title :D
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By the time we made it back to the Beach, Kuina and I were too tired and overwhelmed to bother with the everlasting party. The teenage boy clung to my side, thanking me repeatedly for saving his life. I tried to tell him that there was no need, that anyone would have done the same, but I had to force the words out. It wasn’t true.
In this world, you’re supposed to look out for yourself.
He promised me he’d repay the favour, but I just shook my head and smiled, telling him to survive instead.
I retreated into my room for the rest of the night, and immediately hopped into the shower. The water swirled, washing away the remains of the pinstripe tent, the red water, yellow eyes and leathery skin.
Don’t focus on it. Don’t think about it.
The stained red scrunchie bobbed on the surface of the water as it spun towards the drain.
My legs collapsed beneath me. Sinking to the to the bottom of the shower, I finally wept.
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The next morning, I awoke with a splitting headache. My eyes were pink from the night before, and my hands stung, irritated from the metal pull of the wire and the weight of the teenage boy. It was tempting to stay in bed and dream away the blood and guts of the Borderlands. But there was something I needed to do.
‘Don’t you want to thank Chishiya?’
Back then, Kuina’s words had been a lifeline, cutting through the fear.
Sitting up in bed, I took the copy of Wuthering Heights out of the bedside drawer, flicking through the pages. It was all in Japanese, meaning it was illegible to me. But there was something else; one of the page corners was turned over. Flipping to it, I found that a line of the text had been underlined in pen.
Did Chishiya do this?
It seemed unlikely, although he could have done it with the intention that I would translate it. It was impossible to tell, since he was such a closed book. But seeing the words acted as a reminder that I still needed to find him anyway.
Kicking back the covers, I got up and dressed, and while I still felt half-dead after the game, I somehow felt more confident approaching Chishiya. When I finally left my room, it was nearly noon, and I had a pretty good idea as to where he would be.
The hotel was mostly quiet as I slipped through the halls, following the same path Kuina had led me just days before. Having memorised every turn, I eventually came to the doors that opened up to the roof. A cold gust of air sent goosebumps across my skin, and rubbing my arms, I spied the hunched figure sitting, one leg bent, near the edge. Just seeing him alive and well was a huge relief.
He didn’t turn or react as I sat beside him. ‘I didn’t see you yesterday. How did your game go?’
There was silence at first, before he spoke, half-teasing. ‘So you’re speaking to me again? I see.’ When he realised the words had no effect on me, he added, ‘Eight of Diamonds – it was nothing.’
For him, it was nothing. Personally, I would have struggled with an Eight of Diamonds. Knowing myself, I’d second-guess every move. Chishiya didn’t elaborate on the game, or even speak at all.
‘Aren’t you going to ask about my game?’
He was idly watching the pool-goers splashing around and having fun, but his expression was apathetic. ‘I already know. Kuina told me everything.’ He glanced briefly at my reddened hands ‘Apparently you saved a boy. It was a stupid move.’
To someone like you, it would be.
‘I disagree. He lived because of it.’
‘And if he dies in his next game, then it was a waste of time,’ Chishiya berated. ‘It’s pointless to risk your life for a stranger.’
I spun around to face him fully, crossing my legs beneath me. ‘Okay,’ I challenged him. ‘What about if it was you down there? You’d want someone to save you.’
The question was shut down immediately. ‘That’s different. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to end up in that situation.’
I pouted. He wasn’t technically wrong. It was hard to picture Chishiya scared and hanging upside down on a tightrope. If anything, he wouldn’t hesitate to cross it. But he did get nervous. That much was clear from the Two of Spades game, when I’d felt his heart thudding as his arms tightened, pulling me into the darkness.
And now, as my eyes traced over his deadened expression and the thin hair that stirred in the breeze like spider’s silk, I couldn’t stop the question from slipping out. ‘And what if it was Kuina?’ I paused, whispering, ‘or me?’
Now I had his attention, as his lips twisted in that cruel, cruel smile that used to make me shudder. ‘Do you really want me to answer that question?’
No.
The answer was already clear, and for some unknown reason, it hurt.
I don’t want you to say it out loud.
I swallowed, instantly regretting bringing the subject up. ‘You were wrong, by the way... about what you said before.’ This prompted him to lift his brows in mock surprise. ‘You did end up in a similar situation. Both in the Tag game… and in the Two of Spades. Your injury… how is it?’
During our argument, it hadn’t been the right time to ask, but better late than never. I unconsciously reached for him, as if trying to make sure he was okay. However, Chishiya’s hand darted out, catching my fingers in a tight squeeze.
‘Don’t.’ His tone was icy, and it was the first time I’d seen him grow so cold.
It hurt, seeing him so reluctant to let me in. But to him it was a moment of weakness, a reminder that he had lost control of a situation, even if only for a second.
‘At least tell me you’re okay.’
‘I’ve already told you it’s nothing.’ He clasped my fingers harder. ‘It shouldn’t matter to you anyway.’
I pulled myself free, rubbing my fingertips where they’d turned white and red. ‘That’s not true. I care, and that makes it relevant to me.’
For just a second, I thought I heard him begin to call me an idiot. But then he stopped. ‘You care too much about things that have nothing to do with you. You should focus on what’s in front of you.’ It was fleeting, the way his eyes washed over the bruises on my ankle.
I see.
It felt nice, knowing that in his own abrasive way, he was telling me to watch out. ‘You know what’s strange? Niragi hasn’t bothered me again. I thought he’d have killed me by now.’
Chishiya sighed. ‘That’d be too easy, and not as much fun.’
So Niragi did have his eye on me, but he was biding his time before coming after me again. It was a wonder he seemed to think that by attacking me, he’d be getting to Chishiya. Their rivalry had nothing to do with me, and Chishiya had all but confirmed moments ago that he wouldn’t even risk his life to save me in a game. Coming after me was pointless.
But that’s not what Niragi thinks.
‘It’s only a matter of time before he tries something again. You should watch your back,’ Chishiya warned. Then his face stretched into that familiar, all-knowing smile. ‘But you didn’t come up here to talk to me about Niragi.’
He already knew. He must’ve been waiting for me to track him down.
Mixed feelings swirled within me; embarrassment that he’d so easily predicted my behaviour, annoyance over the fact that he’d been smugly waiting, and something else I couldn’t identify.
Warmth, perhaps?
No, that wasn’t the right word.
‘I’m sorry.’ The words came out in a whisper. Grimacing, I cleared my throat and spoke up. ‘I want to thank you for the books, but I also want to apologise. Everything you said back then was true.’ The words were hard to admit, even to myself. ‘I’ve been living in a hole all my life and I got too used to it. And now the world seems terrifying. But if I survive here and make it back, I know that nothing my dad does will be scarier than these games. I’ll try and make my own freedom from now on. So, thank you… but also, I’m sorry.’
I waited for a response, some kind of acknowledgement. Anything. Instead, there was a rustle of clothes as he stood and began walking to the door. My heart froze over, and I blinked at the empty space beside me.
Did I say something wrong?
‘Antiseptic ointment and gauze,’ I heard him say, before the roof door swung shut.
I was alone, with nothing but the breeze and the distant laughter from the patio below. Looking down at my reddened hands, I smiled, finally understanding.
-----------------------------------------
It had been three days since our conversation on the rooftop, and I had been following Chishiya’s advice, using supplies I’d borrowed from the medical room to treat the irritated skin of my hands. The bruising around my cheek, neck and ankle had faded to a fainter yellowish brown. Kuina kept telling me that we’d find a way of getting back at Niragi for what he did, although I knew she wouldn’t want to do anything drastic without Chishiya’s input; she was just as nervous around Niragi as I was.
I spent all my time pouring over the Japanese language textbook and trying to translate the opening sections of The Metamorphosis. Twice, I’d picked up Wuthering Heights and attempted to make sense of the underlined words. But it was hopeless. There were complex kanji I didn’t know how to pronounce, meaning they were impossible to search in the dictionary I had, and Google was no-go in the Borderlands.
Closing the book yet again, I rubbed my temples, trying to ease the headache brewing after hours spent squinting at different characters.
I should just ask Chishiya.
I hadn’t seen him much since the rooftop, as he was always busy with executive work. And even now, with the late afternoon sun beating through the windows, there was no guarantee he’d be free to talk. But it was worth a shot.
That’s it, I’m going to go ask him.
Pulling on my hoodie, I picked up the copy of Wuthering Heights and left my room. The hallways were pretty quiet around this time, as people were either downstairs enjoying the party while they could, or tucked away in their rooms getting some last-minute sleep before the long evening ahead.
Heading down the hall, I tried to remember where Chishiya’s room was. I had only been there once, after Kuina had given me directions, but at the time I’d been nervous and distracted by the argument that ensued. The hotel was like a maze. No, not a maze – a labyrinth. And his room was hidden somewhere behind one of these identical doors.
I’ll know when I see it.
Rounding a corner… I immediately froze. At the end of the hall, Niragi and his thugs were dragging a man by his bloodied scruff. When the man thrashed wildly in their grip, they stopped to kick him in the ribs and jaw, sending speckles of blood up the wallpaper.
Niragi was a sight. The nail marks down his cheek had scabbed over, and beneath his right eye was a faint purple bruise from where I’d kicked him in the face.
My limbs stiffened in place. I couldn’t move.
And even when his eyes lifted, widening with fury as they locked onto me, I couldn’t move.
He began striding towards me, jaw clenched and hands readying his rifle.
Run, run, run…
As if struck by electricity, I bolted back the way I came, shoving past the occasional person I ran into. Niragi’s footfalls were close behind me. He was following fast, and I could hear his growls.
‘You fucking bitch, get back here!’
The words sounded faint and close at the same time. Everything was close but far away, and my legs had turned to rubber. I spied a familiar looking door and threw myself into it, panting hard as it closed behind me. Outside, Niragi’s footfalls grew closer and closer… then further and further away.
He was gone. At least for now. My relief was cut short when it became clear where I was.
Sitting on the bed with open first-aid kit, gauze held delicately in one hand, Chishiya was completely shirtless. His side was swathed in old bandages, spotted with red. And he was staring at me.
‘Get out.’
#alice in borderland#aib#imawa no kuni no arisu#chishiya#chishiya shuntaro#chishiya x oc#chishiya x reader#chishiya alice in borderland
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A/N: This is part of a BTS x Haikyuu collab, the masterlist can be found here and inspired by the song Serendipity.
Summary: Kuroo’s life was meant to be simple. Go to Nationals, try to win, and get into a good college. But, it all goes haywire when Kenma brings a cat to practice. Now, Kuroo must rethink everything he knew about life and himself.
Rain pattered on the windows of Gym B as the team stretched. Kuroo looked around the gym wondering what was holding Kenma up. It was unusual for him to be late or skip practice, but the rain might have contributed to the slight cold he’d been developing over the last week. Kuroo wondered if it was better to cancel their Friday practice and give everyone the chance to get home before the storm got any worse. Coach Nekomata would most likely agree.
The gym doors open with a bang and a roll of thunder echoing from outside. The noise and flash of lightening that followed sent his heart into his mouth. Kenma entered, not a drop of water on him despite the heavy rain. Nestled in his arms rested a sleeping cat. Its gray fur gleamed unnaturally beneath the gym lights.
The sight of their setter cooing softly to the cat sent a whirl of enthusiasm through the team, especially Lev who jumped towards Kenma long limbs shaking with excitement.
“Let me see,” he demanded, attempting to snatch the cat out of Kenma’s hands. Kenma dodged him easily, but the cat startled and lept out of his hands. It strode slowly across the gym floor, coming to a stop between Yaku and Kuroo.
“Leave her alone, Lev,” said Kenma. A sharp slap filled the air and Lev hissed, rubbing at his stinging hand. “She was lost, I couldn’t just leave her.”
Kuroo knelt and held a hand towards the cat to coax her forward. She stared at the limb curiously and then sat on her back legs, holding her own paw up. He was shocked with the paw tapped against his palm as if high fiving him.
“She did that to me too,” said Kenma softly. The cat jumped at the sound of his voice, jumping over Kuroo’s outstretched towards Kenma. She settled at his feet, tail wrapping around his ankle.
“She’s smart,” said Kuroo. Kenma hummed, nodding in agreement.
“You need to take Fuku home,” said Kenma. Lucky. There was something cute about Kenma naming a cat that.
“What? Why?”
“My mom won’t let her stay. And…I found her curled up in your jacket.”
“I can’t take her home! Where is she going to stay?”
“It’s just for a couple of days, until we find a new home for her.”
Kuroo looked down at the cat. Bright gold eyes met his. He knew whatever fight he would put up, Kenma had an answer for. Outside the storm raged on. The smell of rain wafted into the gym. The rumble of lightening sounded like the purr of a cat.
“You’ll behave, won’t you?” He rubbed the spot between Fuku’s ears. The cat didn’t respond, but her nose twitched and filled Kuroo with an uneasy sense of foreboding.
A couple of days turned into weeks. Kuroo kept the act up and asked Kenma day after day if he had found a new owner. But, part of him was growing used to having Fuku there. Each day, she would wake before him, padding quietly across his room to burrow in his sock drawer. Sometimes he let her out when he went on a run. When he came back, she’d sit on their roof snacking on fish or dried squid. Other days, Fuku would follow him and Kenma to school. Though she never rode the train with them, he would find her wandering the grounds during lunch.
Kuroo wondered if Kenma had done it on purpose. At home, Kuroo was often alone. His grandparents would take day trips to visit their various friends and his father worked late. Talking to a cat was a step closer to insanity, but it was nice having someone to vent too, even if she couldn’t quiet respond.
He liked it most when Fuku would curl next to him on the bed, her gaze focused on his books as if she understood the words printed on the page. Sometimes he would read aloud to break the silence. It was a calm and quiet peace that he hadn’t known he was lacking.
Today, Fuku rested on his bed, curled around one of his old sweatshirts. She pawed at the logo curiously.
“Nekoma. Like you, neko-chan. I’m the captain of the volleyball team.”
A head tilt.
“Yeah, I know. I don’t seem like the type to be responsible and all that, but you’d be surprised.”
She lept from the bed, skidding across his desk. The poster he had been working on—why didn’t they have a manager?!—crumbled under her paws.
“Shit,” he cursed. Annoyance flared. Sometimes Fuku did things like this; whatever luck her name brought must have been buried deep. “I need that for fundraising.”
The cat blinked and stretched, crunching the poster even more. He had the weird feeling that, she had done it deliberately to annoy him with an apathetic air of calm.
He needed new friends…and a new cat.
Wind blew into the empty classroom as Kuroo unlocked the latch on the windows. He’d offered to clean, only to avoid being too early to practice. Last time, he’d shown up on time, Yaku had spent a half hour mocking him for being more of an old man than Coach Nekomata. Chalk dug into his cuticles. A healthy layer of dust stuck to the front of his sweater. The classroom had last been cleaned by Tsubaki Ayumi, a girl who did her homework seconds before their sensei walked in. She cleaned in the same fashion, pushing crumbs beneath desks and under the bookshelf. Kuroo found his annoyance growing.
The trees rustled. A fresh flutter of petals fell onto the window ledge from the blossoming trees outside. But, something else stuck between the trees. Kuroo narrowed his eyes. Was that someone’s jumper?
“Hello,” a voice called. Kuroo looked up and jumped back. A girl was hanging from the ledge of the window, smiling at him.
“Wh….what? Who are you?”
“That’s not very nice.” she said. One of her hands left the ledge to pull her hair away from her face and his heart lurched out of his chest.
“Are you insane? You’ll fall!” he shouted, jumping to grab her wrist and pull her into the classroom. She was wearing their school uniform, and Kuroo vaguely knew he had seen her at Nekoma before. She fell into the classroom face front and hissed.
A poster was thrust into his hands. “Have you seen this cat?”
“Who are you? How did you climb that high?”
“I didn’t climb up. I climbed down from the roof.”
“What year are you in? Which homeroom? You can’t just do that!”
Her head tilted, “We’re in the same class.”
His hands twisted in his hair. Tie loosened; blazer tossed over the back of his chair. Her knees were scrapped, stockings bloodied. On his seventh birthday, he had climbed the tallest tree in his backyard and had gotten stuck for an hour. His father had come home to find him crying on the back porch cut up from sliding down the trunk of the tree. He peered at the girl’s face, the little cuts on her cheeks and looked at the tree outside their classroom. Had she really climbed down from the roof?
“I’ll take you to the nurse. Come on,” he said. She jumped as he moved, almost frightened by his tallness. But she followed. Her nose stuck high in the air and her steps were light and airy.
“Kuroo-san, my cat?”
“What’s your name?”
“My name?” she murmured. Her fingers traced a pattern on her temple. “We’ve been in the same class for three years. Four, if you count Junior High.”
He looked at her for a long while. Kuroo wasn’t the type to forget people and someone like her didn’t seem like the type to be easily overlooked. Guilt swirled and he tried his hardest to think of her name. He usually avoided the girls in class. Not that there was something wrong with them, they just had a vision of him in their heads that was often outlandish compared to his actual personality.
“It’s alright, Kuroo-san.”
“Kuroo? Y/N?” Kai entered the classroom, looking surprised to find the two of them together. Y/N jerked back. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her skirt as if it will somehow hide her scrapped knees.
“Y/N? Oh, you’re the one…” he trailed off. The one whose mother had died. His unspoken words shook in the air. A pure longing to flee the room filled him. Kai spared him a pitying glance and guided Y/N out of the room.
Their teacher warned them not to bring it up to Y/N who returned from a week’s absence looking pale and withdrawn. Kuroo had never really noticed her. Silent was a word he rarely associated with people, but Y/N had always been like that. His memories of her were sparse at best. But once in their second year, she had freaked out when one of the other boys stole her confession letter and read it aloud. No one really remembered who she was trying to confess too, but everyone remembered the bruise on that had bloomed on Takashi’s face after she punched him.
Now, everyone remembered her because of her dead mother.
He looked down at the poster and let out a loud groan. Only he had this type of luck. The cat staring up at him was Fuku.
Kenma disappeared behind the door, shutting it softly behind him. Y/N and Kuroo stood silently beside one another, looking at the door for a moment. Y/N swallowed, turning away and starting to walk forward. Kuroo walked beside her, bag swinging from his arm with a casual grace. Alone and far from her earlier mania, Y/N was increasingly shy. She seemed almost embarrassed by her actions.
“Come on,” said Kuroo.
“I’m sorry,” she shook her head sharply, hands tightening into fists at her side, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just worried about Fuku.”
Y/N glanced down at her wrist, which was slightly swollen and a raw red that would surely give way to a bruise come morning. Kuroo was quiet; so was Y/N. Both trapped within their own minds, riding spiraling thoughts.
“Can I ask—” Y/N lifted her gaze and met his. He hesitated and then rambled forth, “—what’s so special about the cat?”
“Of course, you can.” Silence. He stared at her. She stared back. “Oh, that was you asking.”
“Yeah.” A smile tugged at his lips.
“Fuku is lucky.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, I hardly know you.”
“Fair enough.”
“Hmm.”
“So, Kai and you seem to get along. Have you been friends long?”
“Since first year.”
“That’s nice. Bet he asked you to come to a ton of volleyball games.”
“Uhh, no, not really.”
This was awkward. Too awkward. What did he say? Volleyball was his usual go-to topic, but she seemed uninterested. The sky above them was overcast and gray, dark clouds edging over the horizon. His grandfather should be home. Maybe, they could offer Y/N a ride if it started raining, but he hoped that she would be gone before then.
“Kuroo, you’ve never had a girlfriend, have you?” she said. A stunned look came over his face as his mouth fell open slightly. Nonsensical words fell from his mouth as he attempted to stutter out an answer. Y/N scrunched her nose.
“What? Why are you asking that?”
“Hinako—she’s the class president—always says you’re ‘very mature’ when we’re in the locker room, but you’re kinda odd.”
Heat spread across his nose and cheeks. If the world worked the way he wanted it to, it would open up and swallow him at this moment. They stopped in front of a tall narrow house that hid a wide backyard. His grandmother was seated on the front stairs, tending to a pot of roses. She looked up as they approached. Her eyes flickered towards Y/N and back to him; a wide smile stretched across her face.
“Tetsu, did you bring a friend over?”
Y/N bowed low. “I’m L/N Y/N. Kuroo-san found my cat Fuku. I’m sorry if she caused you any trouble the last few weeks.”
“She’s been the sweetest cat,” she stood and stretched. “Come inside, have you eaten? I hope Tetsurou hasn’t been making any trouble for you.”
“Obaa-chan, she’s going to get Fuku and leaving,” Kuroo groaned. His grandmother paid no attention to his words. She dusted off her apron and ushered Y/N into the house. He followed behind slowly. His grandfather was seated on the floor, watching a game of football on the television. The sharp, crisp smell of lemon filled his nose. The floors are still slightly wet from when his grandmother had cleaned them.
“Oi, Tetsu, a girl?”
“No, Ojii-san. She’s here for Fuku.”
From the kitchen, he heard the crack of an egg and the sizzle of butter. Y/N would not leave without a full belly. Y/N was telling a shortened version of her story. He winced when Y/N mentioned having gone to Junior High with him. There would be no end to the questions later.
“A cat?”
“Her cat. Climbed a tree and everything looking for her. I almost had a heart attack when she came by our classroom window.”
His grandfather laughed: a laugh that immediately warmed the room.
“Fuku,” crooned Y/N. The cat hissed and crawled underneath his bed. Y/N followed. In his head, he ran over the last time he had cleaned his room. Hadn’t Kenma thrown his ramen cups down there at one point? Kuroo had the nasty habit of leaving his laundry everywhere. He prayed that all his underwear were in the hamper.
“Ahh, fuck. Ow…”
“You ok?”
She wiggled out from under the bed, a thin layer of dust covered her uniform and hair. Her cheeks puffed out and Y/N held her arm out to him, showing the red scratches that now covered her arm.
“Is she not your cat?”
“She is. It’s Fuku…she’s being difficult.”
He didn���t quiet understand. A cat was a cat, it exhibited certain animalistic behaviors, but it was still domesticated. Fuku never really scratched anything, just the occasional paper and bedsheet. Why would she attack Y/N? Ruby ran over the slightly swollen cuts. It was on her wrist too, the one she had hurt climbing the tree at school.
“Shit—sit by my desk. I’ll get you some band aids.”
“It’s alright. Fuku didn’t scratch that deep. I think she’s had a bit of trouble recognizing me after being gone for so long.” Her voice was brittle, caught with unshed tears. There was a story behind the cat that Y/N wasn’t ready to share that. Kuroo should be more curious, but he’s still reeling for the girl who emerged at dinner—funny and sharing stories with his grandfather that are equally rowdy as the best of his.
Fuku crawled out from under the bed, padding to his side. Her tail wrapped around his ankle. Kuroo bent and picked her up, holding her out to Y/N. Fuku struggled in his grip and escaped the moment his hands loosened.
Y/N’s face fell. Kuroo’s sure he wasn’t meant to catch the flash of genuine distress that crossed her face.
“I think it’s best she stays here for the night,” Y/N said. Her earlier merriment has all but faded. “Can I try again tomorrow?”
Kuroo doesn’t think twice before agreeing.
“Dad?” she called. No answer. The door was locked, his shoes gone.
Y/N had not seen her father for many days. Since her mother had died, he had become a ghost. Coming and going at odd hours. Choosing to sleep in his office rather than his bedroom. There are nights when she woke and found him pouring over old photo albums. She despised his silence and hated her own cowardness. She cannot put a name to the feeling that cropped up when her thoughts wondered to her mother. Her stomach pulled and tugged, and she felt ready to shout. Even school and her books were not enough to distract her.
What she really wanted was her mother back. Instead, she lived in a quiet state of discomfort, torn between aiding her grieving father and acknowledging that her mother was gone.
She ventured further into the house. Everything was a reminder of her mother. The wallpaper redone when they first learned of her illness. The couches belonged to her mother’s mother. The kitchen sat unused for many months. Y/N did not know how to cook and most of her afternoons were spent in the hospital by her mother’s side. It was unfair that she had to face the reminder every day while her father hid from it.
“Guess, it’s just me,” Y/N muttered. Fuku’s water bowl evaporated in the weeks she was gone. Y/N shuffled toward the kitchen and took a water pitcher to refill it. One day, she would come back. Y/N would pry her out of Kuroo’s hands if she had too.
Five years ago, her mother had arrived home, soaked and sniffling with a tiny kitten clutched between her hands. Y/N’s father, half exasperated, half charmed, scolded her as he helped her warm up. They seemed so content with one another and lost in a world only the two of them knew. When Y/N remembered her parents together, she remembered that day.
Maybe that was why she felt so desperate to get Fuku back. Fuku was just a cat, but she held a small piece of what Y/N had lost. Her life had become disjointed fragments that Y/N couldn’t reassemble.
Some days slid by in a haze: warm, cold, good, and bad. She felt as if she had lost something greater than just her mother. A piece of her had shriveled. She tossed her jacket on the couch. She climbed the stairs. She slept and woke again. The same endless cycle.
He missed the train that morning. Kenma was down with a slight fever and his stop at the convenience store to pick up medicine had set his schedule off. Now, trapped between a crowd of salarymen, Kuroo tried to inch forward. If he missed this train, he would miss morning practice entirely.
The hiss and rumble of a train engine was a sound that normally would put Kuroo to sleep. On long trips they took to training camps or practice matches, he looked forward to the naps he’d take on the train. Though it was rare that he could sleep for longer than an hour, given his team.
His eyes skim the platform, stopping on a familiar figure. So, Y/N took this train too. His father attempted to drive her home last night, but she insisted that she lived nearby and left in such a hurry that Kuroo got scolded for letting her go alone.
He thought that she looked lonely. Hadn’t he looked like that too once? Before he met Kenma, Kuroo was shy and nervous. Tokyo was huge, full of smoke and buildings taller than any Kuroo had ever seen. And, his mother was gone. It was years since he thought of his early grief over her death. His grandparents, father, and friends all helped ease the pain.
A train passed by; a gust of hot wind followed its trail. Kuroo inched forward. Y/N still hadn’t seen him. Her head was tucked down, nose buried in a thick book. What a nerd.
“L/N?” he called.
She didn’t react. The page flipped. Kuroo hovered near her awkwardly. She liked her cat, maybe that would get her talking. Or he could scare her. As he’s about to creep next to her, her gaze lifted and met his. Kuroo coughed and pressed his hands behind his back.
“You look like a con-man,” said Y/N.
Kuroo’s face twisted, “Ehh, I swear you’re out to get me or something.”
“No, I just pay attention. It’s not hard.” The book snapped closed. The corners of her eyes tightened. “How is Fuku?”
“Are you still mad she likes me more than you?”
Her lips pursed. “She does not!”
“I’m pretty sure she wanted to stay with me. Maybe you’re a dog person?”
“I’m not having this conversation with you. Why are you taking this train? Where is Kozume-san?”
“Are you a stalker? Cause, I don’t have any kind of inheritance or anything. My death will be worth nothing.”
“No. I take the same train and you’re incredibly loud. Far too loud for the morning.”
“Late start?”
“I was up late.”
Their train pulled into the station. A swarm of people step on, all dressed in various suits and ties, heading deeper into the city where they’ll work until sunset. Kuroo pressed his hand against the door and let Y/N step in first. That was the day Kuroo and Y/N became friends. Kuroo never truly knew how much she needed someone those days.
Their friendship came like a crack in a dam, first a slow trickle of water than all at once. Kuroo was slightly stunned by how seamlessly Y/N fit into his life. There are times when he’s surprised by aspects of her personality. A ruthlessness came out during their economics classes and they’ve become known for their frequent debates during history. Y/N took her lunches with Kai or her other friends, but there are days when she joined him and Kenma, exchanging quick words over coding, game theory and design.
One Monday, he dropped a smoothie by her desk. He’d never seen her drink anything but her bottled green tea, but it felt like the right thing to do that morning.
“I’m not letting you copy my homework,” she said, dryly, “What’s in this?”
“Strawberry, apple, ginger and spinach.”
“Sounds disgusting healthy,” she said. Taking a sip, she made a face at the sharp aftertaste of ginger. “Do you actually need the homework?”
“This is a college prep class, we’re not all slackers,” he said. He knocked his knuckles on her desk, pulling a sheet of her math homework over and flapping it in the air. She grimaced, remembering the half an hour she spent trying to figure out why her answer to number seven was wrong.
“Just checking,” she answered, snatching the worn sheet back and tucking it into her folder.
“Wanna be our manager?” he asked. The words slipped out before he realized, but Kuroo didn’t regret asking.
“Really?”
He thought about it. “Yeah, it’d be nice to have someone help with all the planning.”
“But shouldn’t you ask your team first?”
“I’m the captain. Yaku and Kai already know you, Kenma too.”
Y/N didn’t look like she would say no. In fact, she seemed a bit pleased at being asked. Someone—Takashi no doubt—knocked his bag over as they made their way to their seat. He didn’t get an answer, but Kuroo formulated a plan to get her to do it. He had a feeling that Coach Nekomata would help her, the same way he had helped Kuroo—or maybe being around the team would take away some of the despair that crossed her face when she thought he wasn’t looking.
“I have a question,” she said, leaning forward. Her eyes gave nothing away. The flat line of her mouth reminded him of her expression when she came across a particularly hard math problem.
“Well, what is it?”
“What’s with the hair?” she asked flatly. Instinctively, his hand rose up to try and flatten the mess. Bedhead. A case so severe he’d never figured out just what to do with it. Rumors had spread around the school about his nighttime activities giving him an unsavory reputation when it came to dating. None of it was true, but once the rumors had started, there was no real way to end them. The truth was that his hair was a result of too many pillows and constant movement while sleeping.
“It’s not what you think,” he blurted out. “I’ve tried to get rid of it. Nothing works. I live my life in a constant state of dishevelment.”
“Just sleep like a normal person?” she suggested.
“I do!”
“Of course, you do.”
“What are you doing here?” Kuroo asked. The look of mock surprise fell away and a slow smirk grew on his face. “Curiosity finally go to you?” he asked.
Y/N didn’t answer, waving her hand in the air to draw him closer. He pointed at himself, mocking her silent request. She did it again, rolling her eyes as he slowly sauntered forward.
“Closer,” she murmured. He inched nearer; body angled toward her. Before he could dodge, her fingers latched onto his ear, pulling him down to her level. A yelp left his mouth, and his body twitched, trying to get away from her hands.
“Did I agree to be your manager?”
“That hurts,” he whined. She let him go, cheeks puffing out in annoyance. Nekoma had been a volleyball powerhouse for years, but they had an astonishingly bad record when it came to keeping a manager. Having witnessed his teammates practice, it was no wonder why. They were loud, rambunctious and whoever was their manager needed to be able to deal with the multiple personalities that were on the team. Dodging Kuroo’s insanity, Yaku’s temper, Lev’s wild arms, and the rogue spikes that would no doubt leave bruises was too much for any one person.
“First fight?” Yaku muttered, passing by them. Y/N stuck up her middle finger which he mimicked seconds later, sending a mocking smile in her direction.
“So, you’ll do it?” Kuroo asked, drawing her attention back to him. “We don’t expect you to show up to every practice. I know you have your own stuff to deal with afterschool and we don’t want to get in the way of that. But having someone at our games to help out would be better than nothing.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Other than getting to spend more time with me?”
“Yes, other than that,” she said, rolling her eyes. Kuroo’s smile fell, lips twisting to the side. Pressing a hand to her shoulder, he leaned down, so they were eye-level. She wondered if there was some spirit in Nekoma that lent that cat-like glint to everyone’s eyes or if it was an aftereffect of spending so much time at the school.
“Think of your college resume,” he said seriously.
“That just makes me want to say no.” A soft laugh left her, nose scrunching.
“What do you want then?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“When you do, let me know. I’ll make sure you get it, whatever it is,” he promised.
The air in Tokyo was crisp and brought with it the sweet smell of summer and freshly burnt wood. The sun inched past the horizon, giving way to the thick velvet of a star strewn sky. Y/N pulled her jacket closer, looking at the rising form of Tokyo’s Skytree. The streets seemed so familiar it left her with the annoying nag of déjà vu. Curling her fingers into her fist, Y/N pushed away the familiar ache of pain that she often ignored.
Her father walked on ahead of her, head hanging low, shoulders slumped. In a couple of months, Y/N would reach the one-year mark. One year without her mother and then the gap would grow. She’d never admit to her father, that there were times where she missed her mother so much that she was left with a void of sorrow that did nothing but grow endlessly. He missed her too. It was strewn across his face at the oddest of moments. Once when he had been scolding her for coming home late after practice, he had stopped in the middle, face sagging with grief. Those looks seared into Y/N’s mind, reminding her at every moment just how much they had lost.
“It should be up here,” he muttered, turning to face her with a small smile. Y/N nodded, mutely. Following his quick strides, she pushed her hands into her pockets, poking one finger out of the forgotten hole. A trail of lanterns began to light the sky. Her father paused, offering her his shaking hand. Grasping it tightly, she linked elbows with him, pressing against his side.
A small temple was tucked away into an old square that was a remnant of the days before Tokyo had been made capital. The streets were lined with stalls, selling fishcakes, yakitori, and other festival foods. All around them families dressed in summer yukatas passed. The smell of burning fires wafted in the air. Y/N felt slightly undressed. Ahead, waiting between the gate of the temple was a familiar figure.
“Kuroo?” she asked. He stood at the entrance of the temple with his family. Both of his grandparents were wearing yukata, heavily embroidered but made of thin fabrics.
“Oi, Y/N—” He froze at the sight of her father and offered a quick, polite bow. “You should have said you were coming; I would have waited for you.”
“I…my father and I wanted to come together.”
“Is this a classmate?” her father asked.
“Kuroo Tetsurou, sir. Y/N and I are friends.”
“He’s the one who found Fuku,” said Y/N. Her father frowned. She wondered if he also missed their cat. Or maybe, he was startled by the news that Fuku had been missing.
“I’ll go ahead, Y/N,” he said. Before she could stop him, her father disappeared up the steps of the temple. Y/N sighed.
Kuroo stared at her, his brows pinched together. “Is everything alright?”
“It’s our first time coming without my mother,” she explained, wringing her hands nervously. Understanding flickered across Kuroo’s face. Hands, slightly calloused but smooth, pressed over hers. The warm touch anchored her. Y/N breathed sharply, instantly seeking out the broken bits of comfort she could find. It wasn’t fair to Kuroo though, to burden him with her grief. She pulled away.
“Y/N.”
She looked in the distance where the shadow of her father stalked.
“Look at me.”
“I should go.”
“My mom died when I was seven.”
She froze. Kuroo moved closer, calm but steady as if trying to stop a wild animal from fleeing. She felt like that; caught in the snare of his words.
“We can’t compare griefs. But, when I lost her, I felt like the world had shattered. You don’t need to pretend to be happy…not with me.”
Her lip quivered. She said in a small voice, “I miss her.”
The sun burned past the horizon; around them a thousand voices spoke over one another. Kuroo stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. She breathed in sharply and held on tight, as if to trap his comfort in her grip. Thank you, she wanted to say. Kuroo swayed slightly and she knew that he could hear her unspoken words.
Y/N did not become their manager. Not officially at least. She tended to show up to practice only to follow him home and attempt to coax Fuku into coming home with her. The day she succeeded was bright and sunny. Kuroo was half listening to her story about how Yamamoto and Kenma had been fighting while he was in the locker rooms.
His mind was spirling down a dangerous path. Kuroo found himself entirely focused on Y/N. He doesn’t understand why. She didn’t seem remotely interested in him. He had no time to waste, twisting his throughs over a girl. But, as much as he tried to avoid thinking of her that way, he found himself entertaining the same line of thought over and over again.
“Sorry what?” he asked, realizing that she was waiting for an answer.
Y/N laughed. “Coach Nekomata told me you had a training camp?”
“Oh, yeah. If you come, you can finally meet Bokuto. And Tsukki. And all the rest.”
“How tempting, me and a bunch of mangers cleaning up your sweat.”
As they reached his house, Y/N bounded forward to greet his grandmother. Sometimes he was convinced she was only friends with him, so she would be fed. The amount of bentos he had brought to school for her exceeded normal standards.
“Obaa-san, it isn’t good for you back to be hunched over the plants like that,” Y/N scolded. She helped his grandmother up the stairs, chatting all the while.
Kuroo followed them into the house. Y/N didn’t bother going upstairs first. While her mother was sick, Y/N had been home alone often and forced to cook. Sheepishly, she admitted she wasn’t any good at it and his grandmother had taken pity on her.
Occasionally, Kenma and the team came over to try her latest creations. They were lucky they weren’t subjected to the daily disasters he was. Once they are fed and watered, Kuroo and her ventured upstairs. His grandfather tossed a wicked look his way as they head toward his room.
Fuku was surprisingly receptive to Y/N and approached her on her own. Usually, Kuroo would need to pick her up first and give her to Y/N.
“Fuku, come on, girl. Don’t you want to eat tuna at home?” Y/N said. Fuku inched closer and then clawed at Y/N’s tights. Surprise and then a bright smile stretched on her face.
She picked up Fuku, cooing all the while the way a mother did with her child. It felt like the ending of a book.
But, Y/N looked happy for the first time she had met him. Not the fake happiness she wore like a mask. He found himself grinning for no good reason, other than she had smiled. While she was distracted, he studied her face committing it to memory. Eyes brighter than the stars, deeper than water, and lined with affection. Going forward, he hoped that she looked like this all the time.
“Y/N, you’re happy, aren’t you?”
“Right now?” She turned and lifted Fuku up into her arms. She softened her expression, crackling with a warm energy. “You make me happy, Kuroo.”
It slowly dawned on him that while he was staring, she had caught his gaze. Lost in his thoughts, he felt no embarrassment, nor did Y/N look upset. It looked more like she was waiting for something.
He wanted to tell her that he liked her—not the way one like a friend, but he liked the way she spoke, every word measured and certain. Or the way she remembered things he had mentioned only once. Or the way she knew what he was asking before he asked her. He liked her calmness, her banter, how she would do anything for the things she loved, and the slight madness that he both encouraged and hated. His words failed him.
Kuroo didn’t want anything to change. If he told her and she rejected him, would their friendship be over? Besides, what could he offer her? Y/N still grieved over her mother. What kind of man would he be to take advantage of that for his own gain?
He closed his eyes for a moment. Y/N sat next to him on the bed and rested her head on his shoulder. Fuku curled up in her arms. Her closeness was the sweetest, bitterest thing he had ever known.
#kuroo tetsurou x reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#kuroo x reader#Kuroo Tetsurou#kuroo imagine#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu reader
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Aizawa x Reader, where Aizawa's a full-on gentleman to his S/O? I can't see him actually being a 100% gentleman but the thought is wholesome- Please and thank you!
A/N: Hi I made this slightly more as a doting partner rather than a gentleman, I hope that’s alright! I feel like I took a few liberties with this one, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless
Also, he’s literally a reincarnation of Kakashi Hatake, aka the love of my life, so it’s safe to say that I love this man with all of my heart
Summary: Aizawa Shouta was not, by any stretch, a gentleman. All of his coworkers knew it, his students knew it, and he didn’t try to deny it. That’s why, when you stop in to drop off your forgetful husband’s lunch, the entirety of U.A. is shocked to see their scruffy, irritable teacher, turn into the worlds largest sap
Words: 1,651
If you were to ask anyone to describe Aizawa Shouta in one word, the most common answers you’d get would be sleepy, apathetic, reserved, or stern. But, there was no way, that any student, staff member, or civilian, would describe him as a gentleman.
They weren’t wrong, per se. After all, Shouta was a rather gruff man, a little rough around the edges, and certainly unkempt. To an outsiders perspective, it almost seemed that he was unfit to teach, with how many hopeful students he’d expelled in the past. It also didn’t help that he seemed more like that hung over uncle at a family gathering that no one wanted to invite, but felt obligated to and didn’t think would show up. Though, to his students, they could see a bit of his softer side, no where near what you saw on a daily basis, but they saw that he wasn’t the man that everyone said he was. Even they could see how the seemingly grumpy man had a paternal instinct when it came to his students, albeit a little begrudgingly, but still, there were times where he acted more so like a father than a teacher.
Despite this, if you asked Shouta’s students about whether or not they believed the man could be a typical doting partner, it’d be a hard no from all of them. It just, didn’t look right when they imagined it. How could their typically cold and abrasive teacher be a loving and doting partner when it came to his romantic relationships. Actually, how could their teacher get into a relationship in the first place? It didn’t seem possible to them.
So, you can imagine the looks on the entirety of the U.A. faculty and students when you stepped onto school grounds, Eri’s little hand in one of yours, and a lunch box in the other. While walking onto the campus, you could feel the stares of everyone burning into the back of your skull, as if trying to figure out who you were. It wasn’t surprising, of course, as you and Shouta had never been too flashy and open about your relationship. Not only because it would put a rather large target on your back, but also because it was just the way the two of you were. You were okay with keeping your relationship quiet. However, just because the two of you kept your relationship quiet, didn’t mean that you were going to let your husband leave his lunch at home for what seemed like the twentieth time. No, if he was going to be forgetful, then you were going to deal with it like any loving wife would, by bringing it to him. Besides, he did say that he wanted you to come in at some point to talk more about rescue missions, so why not kill two birds with one stone?
A small tug on your hand pulled you out of your thoughts. Looking down at the small girl, you squeezed her hand gently.
“What’s up?”
“It’s Deku!” She stated, pointing towards a green haired kid.
Following her line of sight, you saw a face you recognized very well. It was the kid that Shouta would always talk about. The “problem child,” he called him. The one who broke all of his fingers in a fight during the sports festival. He seemed to notice the two of you, as he broke out into a smile, waving at Eri while walking towards the two of you.
“Eri!” He exclaimed, kneeling down to her height, “It’s nice to see you!”
While the little girl ecstatically greeted the boy, even pulling her hand out of your own grasp, you couldn’t help the small giggle that came out of you. It seemed to cause the boy, Deku, to finally look up at you. Standing up, he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Ah, sorry about that! I didn’t realize you were with her,”
You shook your head, your smile still playing on your lips. “No need to worry,” Extending your hand, you introduced yourself, “I’m (Y/N), it’s a pleasure to meet the hero Eri’s always talking about.”
He seemed to grow even more embarrassed, if that were even possible. Shaking your hand, he introduced himself as Midoriya Izuku, though he said that Deku was just as fine. Grabbing Eri’s hand once more, you pursed your lips, looking towards the gigantic school that seemed to dwarf the three of you. Looking back at the boy, you smiled.
“Hey, you’re in class 1-A, right?” It was merely a formality, you knew he was in 1-A.
When he nodded his head, you spoke once more, “Could you show me where it is? I need to speak with your teacher,”
It didn’t take much from you to get Deku to agree with you. After all, since you were already on campus, and had a guest pass, he figured that you were safe enough. As the three of you walked down the halls, you made small talk, asking about how his classes were, how difficult his teacher is, and many other school related things. You even heard from him about how he made candy apples for Eri one time, and although you already knew that story, it was nice to hear about how hard he worked to make the school festival enjoyable for her.
By the time you had reached the classroom, it was nearly time for class to start. As you entered the classroom, you were taken aback by how noisy the class was. All of the students seemed to get along fairly well, with the exception of a few individuals, but even then, they seemed to be dragged into some conversations. When Deku went to take his seat, you saw as he was bombarded by two girls, most likely curious as to who he just walked in with. You decided that, rather than to stand in the middle of the doorway, you’d take a seat next to Shouta’s desk. Pulling Eri into your lap, the two of you waited for the man to come in, though it didn’t take long for him to enter.
About five minutes after your arrival, the door to 1-A had opened once more, revealing your tired-looking husband. The entire class went silent, and it took him about ten seconds to realize that no, he wasn’t dreaming, and yes, you really were here, in his classroom. Walking towards you, he kneeled down, checking you over.
“Are you alright?”
You tilted your head to the side, a confused look on your face. “Of course I am, why do you ask?”
Starring at you for a few seconds, he sighed, placing his hands on your knees. “You never come here, I got worried.”
Letting out a noise of realization, you grinned. Pulling out the lunch box from underneath your chair, you held it out towards him. “You forgot your lunch, again,” As he took the box, you frowned in mock annoyance, which Eri copied, “This is like, the twentieth time, Shouta. You need to take better care of yourself.”
He rolled his eyes, but an uncharacteristic smile appeared. “You’re one to talk. It’s supposed to be cold today, yet here you are, no coat, and in a short sleeved shirt.”
Before you could even rebut what he said, you felt his scarf fall over your shoulders. Looking back at him, you raised an eyebrow. He took a few more seconds to make sure that you were covered before he spoke.
“Can’t have you getting sick now, then I’d have to do all the work.”
You scoffed, waving a hand at him, dismissing him. He let out a laugh, before standing back up and rubbing your shoulder.
“You can stay, maybe do a lecture a little later. Oh, and if you need anything, just ask me, okay?”
When you agreed, he looked towards his class, getting ready to begin the day.
“Alright, let’s get started—“ He stopped himself, letting out a long and tired sigh, “What is it, Kaminari?”
“Who’s the lady?”
The rest of the class seemed to perk up at the question, looking both at you and Shouta. Deciding to poke fun at your husband, you stood up, made sure that Eri was comfortable sitting, and then stood next to him.
Waving your hand, you introduced yourself once again. “Hello, I’m (Y/H/N), but as a civilian I go by Aizawa (Y/N),” You paused as gasps of disbelief filled the air, “I came to bring my husband’s lunch and to talk to you about rescue missions.”
As the class began to get progressively louder, questioning why this was the first time hearing of you, and how no one recognized such a popular hero, you turned towards your now embarrassed husband. Wrapping your arms around him, you gave him a small peck on the cheek.
“Sorry about that, I just can’t help myself.”
Once again, he rolled his eyes, but he didn’t seemed to be mad, so you supposed that was a good sign. Before going back to settle his class, he rubbed his hands along your waist, something he did when he wanted to be near you, but also wanted to be subtle about it.
“Thank you for lunch. Why don’t we share it during break later?”
When you smiled, he felt as if there were a million butterflies that were bursting from his heart. As you went back to sitting down, Shouta offered you his sleeping bag, zipping up you and Eri before shutting up his class.
Yes, Aizawa Shouta was by no means, a gentleman. It was an indisputable fact about the U.A. teacher and pro hero. However, if you were to ask his class, they’d tell you that not only was he a great teacher, but he was a doting partner as well.
#bnha#mha#bnha imagines#mha imagines#bnha x reader#mha x reader#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#aizawa x reader#aizawa shouta x reader#shouta aizawa#aizawa shouta
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a blip in the reader-verse
chapter 4: going once, going twice
summary: you meet an interesting character while attending a charity auction.
warnings: soft moments, angsty moments. asshole ransom, soft ransom. you’ve been warned.
pairing: ransom drysdale x reader, overarching steve rogers x reader
word count: 3.4k
author’s note: before anyone asks, i don’t really consider this cheating since it’s just steve in a different universe. but i’d skip this chapter if it won’t sit right with you!
p.s. i had to google translate some french, please don’t hate me if you speak french and it’s awful🥺
previous chapter / series masterlist
Sounds seemed to be the first thing you noticed as you entered a new universe. This was absolutely no different.
Well, except for the fact that the first sound you noticed was the announcing of your own name.
From the moment your eyes opened, you were met with a blinding yellow light, and the urge to stand up. You glanced over at the table that you’d previously been sat at, and received raised brows from Aaliyah, who’d been sitting at the white, round table across from you, along with a hand gesture that shoo-ed you away.
You timidly walked up to the small and raised platform of a stage, and stood next to a person who vaguely resembled your old boss from your main universe.
“Alright, ladies and gents! Our final lady of the night, well, not a lady of the night, is the gorgeous Y/N L/N! Starting at $1,000, do we have any takers?”
You looked out into the ocean of round tables, and watched a decently handsome man, with dark hair and a beard raise his paddle, “1,500!” he called out.
The man received a death glare from someone else at his table, and looked up at both the stage and you to raise his own paddle. “2,500,” he responded in a bored tone.
After getting over the extreme ego boost that was being bid over, you let yourself take a good look at the second man who’d offered the cash, and,
Holy shit.
It was Steve, but it definitely wasn’t Steve.
His hair was slightly darker, he was wearing a cream sweater and long, multicolored scarf that your Steve would never be caught dead in. He held an air of confidence and cockiness that you could see from miles away, and according to his bidding style, he was loaded.
After seeing him, you desperately wanted to find a mirror and find out if your own appearance had changed at all.
“Fine, $4,000,” the bearded man offered, glancing back and forth between you, and this alternate version of Steve.
“$5,000!” A new contestant jeered, this one a rather old man whom you could tell you wanted nothing to do with.
“Old fucking geezer,” the alternate Steve muttered. “$7,000.”
There was a gasp, and a silence throughout the audience.
“$7,000 for Hugh, going once, going-”
“15,” the bearded man lifted his paddle once again. You glanced over to Aaliyah, whose eyeballs seemed to be bulging out of her head at this.
“Fuck it, 30,” Hugh sighed.
The bearded man threw his hands up in defeat, and set his paddle all the way down on his table.
“45, final!” The old man called out.
“75,” Hugh glanced around the audience, a rather smug look on his face.
“Oh wow, $75,000 going once, going twice… sold to Mr. Hugh Drysdale! Miss L/N, is there something you’re not telling us about the nature of your date?” The auctioneer passed the microphone to you, and you laughed awkwardly into it.
“Nothing that I know of,” the rest of the crowd seemed to laugh with you at this, but you couldn’t help but feel the growing discomfort in your stomach.
“Well, I’m sure the folks over at One Mission will be very happy at this sizable donation. Can we get one more cheer for Miss L/N?” You gave a friendly wave before awkwardly stepping off the stage while the people around you clapped.
You’d had a decent idea at this point of what was going on, but you couldn’t quite piece together why this Hugh character had decided to bid so high on someone he’d never even met. You sat back down at your table, and slipped your phone out of your pocket to look at yourself. Yep, same you.
“Okay, what the hell was that?” Aaliyah asked you, a mixture of confusion and excitement present in her tone.
“Hell if I know,” you sighed, and scratched your neck nervously.
“I mean, I get it, you’re hot. But the price of a luxury vehicle for a date? You’re gonna have to let him finger you at least,” she giggled.
“Shut up,” you groaned at the thought. You were still feeling pretty confused about the fact that the Steve in this universe wasn’t actually Steve at all. You so far, you’d only really met Steves that were well… Steve.
You internally lamented the situation, until you noticed someone plop down at the open seat at the table, causing you to turn and look at him.
“This seat taken?” Hugh asked, and you shook your head. “Great, now it is,” he quipped.
“I’ll give you two a moment. I’m gonna go find my own socialite,” Aaliyah bantered, slipping up from her chair and following through on her comment.
“So you must really love those kids you just donated to,” you awkwardly chuckled.
“Oh hell no. Fuck those kids. I just hate losing, and I absolutely was not gonna let those douchebags win,” he looked down at his hands and played with his pinky ring in an extremely bored manner.
“Oh, okay,” you nodded slowly. This man was a complete 180 to the type of Steve that you were used to. Your Steve was warm and caring, but this man seemed cold and apathetic. Your Steve would gladly lay his life on the line for anyone, and this man didn’t even seem to have the emotional capacity to hold the door for someone else. “So Hugh, what do you plan to do on our date?” You lifted up your glass of champagne and took a little sip.
“Call me Ransom, only the help call me Hugh. We’ll probably just go to Europe or something.”
You nearly spat out your drink at this. In fact, you felt a little carbonation in your nose. Then again, Ransom just spent ¾ of a hundred thousand on a date with you. “Jesus,” you murmured.
“Think you can head out tomorrow?”
----
Waking up in the bedroom of the apartment you seemed to share with Aaliyah taught you two things. One, you could apparently sleep in these universes and not wake up elsewhere, and two, the walls of your apartment were far too thin.
You glanced over at the clock on your bedside table, and noted the time. You had about an hour before you needed to be at the airport.
You quickly threw a mixture of clothing, a phone charger, a packet of birth control, and some skincare products into a suitcase before heading out to the kitchen to grab a granola bar. You chewed half the bar before hopping into the shower, then tossing on some ugly, but comfortable travelling clothes.
Maybe you spent a bit too long checking yourself in the mirror that morning with the newfound knowledge that you were now worth at least 75,000 dollars. Frankly, having multiple (attractive) men fight over you was the greatest boost to your pride that you’d ever been given.
Glancing down at your phone after the matter, you realized that you only had a few minutes to order an Uber to pick you up, unless you wanted to be late and miss your flight.
----
You had your baggage checked, stumbled through TSA, and showed the screenshot of your plane ticket a boatload of times to a multitude of people before you finally reached the lounge, and found Ransom sitting on a sofa with a glass of whiskey in his hand.
“Why the hell are you dressed like that?” Ransom asked you as you approached, looking up and down at your outfit of a college sweatshirt and loose joggers.
“Because I want to be comfortable, you dick. Do rich people not like being comfortable?” You sat down beside him on the sofa, and slumped into the chair. Who knew travelling throughout the multiverse could be so tiring? “Besides, you have like seven holes in that sweater. I wouldn’t be talking about anyone else’s clothes if I gladly let moths have a four course meal on my things,” you scoffed.
That seemed to shut him up for a bit.
Eventually, your flight number was called, and you, along with the few other first class flyers piled into the plane.
You sat down next to Ransom in a soft chair that seemed to lower back into some sort of makeshift mattress, and slipped your phone out of your pocket to send your friends a message that you were taking off.
“You excited?” You asked Ransom while he began to slip a pair of Beats onto his head.
“Yeah, I like Nice,” he nodded, then grabbed his own phone to connect to the headphones.
“So you’ve been there before?” Ransom nodded, clearly trying to ignore you. “Do you have a plan on fun places to take me?” He shrugged.
You got the message, and huffed as you sat back in your seat. Right before takeoff, you received a message back from Aaliyah of a picture of her cat, and that was enough to bring a smile to your face.
——
About 7 hours into your flight, you noticed Ransom picking out a movie to watch, and you found the idea intriguing.
“What’cha watching?” You asked, leaning over a bit into his space.
“Nothing,” he said stiffly, and you rolled your eyes.
“Porn?” You joked, glancing up at him to see if it landed or not. It did not.
“You know what? You’re a lot prettier when you’re quiet.”
You slunk back into your seat at this and turned your head away from Ransom. The words really bit at you, considering that it sounded just like your Steve, and if you squinted enough, it looked like him too. But your Steve would never say something like that to you, right?
For a moment, you twisted the watch on your wrist consideringly, wondering if you should go to the next universe, where you might gain a little more respect from your partner. Yet something told you to wait it out. If this was still, in some convoluted way, Steve, he’d come around, right?
That alone gave you enough reason to stay.
----
You dragged your suitcase into a hotel room much too big for just two people after nearly 12 hours of an extremely awkward flight, and even more awkward cab ride to the hotel.
After plopping your things down into the bigger bedroom of the hotel, you stretched rather dramatically in hopes of waking up some of the stiff muscles in your body. In the midst of this, Ransom came up behind you, and set a hand on your back, scaring the life out of you.
“What the hell, Ransom! A knock or a ‘hello’ will do it next time!”
You turned to look at him, and became a bit flustered at his shirtless, short-clad figure. It was silly, because you’d seen Steve naked a million times before, and this was simply Steve in another universe.
“You coming to the spa with me?” He smirked as you blatantly checked him out. “Okay, yeah. You’re coming with me. I’ll meet you at the front door.”
You spent around an hour at the spa with Ransom, sweating yourself out in the sauna until you were likely majorly dehydrated, soaking in the heated pool until your skin became pruny and wrinkled, and ending the night with a massage that sent you straight to sleep.
Like, deep sleep. When you became even slightly conscious, Ransom was laying you in your pillowy soft bed. As your eyes opened the slightest bit at him, he scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“Pretending to sleep, how cute,” he muttered sarcastically. You’d argue with him, but you were simply too exhausted to do so. In fact, you were convinced you’d just given him a whole monologue about how travelling makes people tired, but the most that had exited your mouth was a tiny squeak.
You watched Ransom leave the room, before your head collapsed onto your shoulder, and you fell back into a nice rest.
When you awoke, it was not on your own will.
An overly saturated light attacked your eyes from behind your eyelids, and came all at once, snapping you out of your dreamless slumber. When you glanced over at the harsh source, you noticed none other than Ransom by your window, with a hand on the drape.
“Time to wake up. It’s like, 3 PM, by the way,” he huffed before exiting your room, not even allowing you to reply.
You groaned in annoyance, having an off handed thought about how jet lag was kicking your ass, before rolling out of bed and trying to find something nice to put on.
By the time you left your room, Ransom was standing by the door, aimlessly scrolling on his phone. “You wanna go for a walk?”
“Sure, I guess. I’m kinda hungry though, so maybe we can stop somewhere first?”
Ransom shrugged and gave you what seemed like the hint of a smile, and you hurried to put on your shoes before heading out.
——
The two of you ended up on the patio of some local restaurant, your eyes skimming the menu while Ransom took sips of his complimentary water.
What seemed to be out of nowhere, a burly man came rushing over to your table, and appeared to be approaching Ransom, as he turned his head to look at the man, then quickly looked away.
The man, who you could only assume to be the owner, clapped Ransom on the back, and in return, Ransom slumped over in embarrassment.
You were definitely going to enjoy this.
“Où étiez-vous?, Ranny?” Where have you been?
“Occupé, Henri.” Busy, Henri. Ransom clearly had a dark red blush on his face now, and he glanced at you as if you could offer him some sort of assistance.
“Trop occupé avec la dame?” Too busy with the lady? Henri asked with a smirk.
“No!”
“Présentez-moi à elle,” Introduce her to me.
Ransom sighed dramatically, then sat up from hunching, “Y/N, this is Henri. He’s a family friend,” you couldn’t help but notice how pleased Henri seemed, “Henri, this is Y/N, mon rendez-vous,” My date.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Henri extended a hand out to you and you gladly shook it. He turned back to Ransom, and continued grilling him. “Est-ce votre cavalier ou votre petite amie?” Is she your date or your girlfriend?
“Mon rendez-vous!” My date! You don’t think you’d ever seen anyone become this flustered so fast.
“Hey Henri,” you interrupted, feeling a tiny bit left out, “any way that we could order first, then you could come back here and tell me all the embarrassing stories about Ransom you can remember?”
“That sounds fun to me,” he shrugged.
——
During lunch, you’d learned more about Ransom than you ever knew you needed to know. In the midst of it all, you couldn’t help but to think about how different he was compared to your Steve. His parents were extremely wealthy (no surprise there), he went to boarding school in Nice (which explained his ability to speak French), and Ransom was a bit of an art nerd (perhaps some characteristics could transcend universes).
Surprisingly, he was starting to grow on you. Which was why you were far from opposed to his suggestion of going sight-seeing around the town.
The first stop you took wasn’t too far from the restaurant. A quaint little gift store with tiny knicknacks lining the shelves, and a relentless, old, orange cat who did not seem to want to leave Ransom alone.
“You should pet her, Ran,” you suggested, leaning down to do so yourself.
“First of all, don’t call me that. Second of all, if you pet her once, it’ll literally never stop,” He glanced over at you from where he was standing at a set of tourist-oriented keychains.
“Are you speaking from firsthand experience?” You grinned down at the cat who was now aggressively rubbing its head against your hand.
“Yes. Luis may seem nice, but one second you’re petting his head, and the next, you’re carrying him around the store, the whole time he’s whispering in your ear for you to buy more things.”
You were a bit taken aback at this, for a second concerned that the man you’d impulsively travelled to Europe with had a few screws loose, since he was apparently hearing local cats speak to him. That’s of course, when Ransom broke into laughter. It took you a second before you laughed a bit too.
“That was so weird, man. Don’t do that again,” you lightly punched his shoulder, then went to pick up Luis who was more than happy to be transported around like an infant.
After buying a nice mug and a postcard to give to Aaliyah once you returned home, and parting with Luis who seemed to feel a bit, you suggested hopping in a cab to visit one of the many art museums Nice had to offer.
After a bit of bickering in the backseat, the two of you compromised on the Modern and Contemporary Art museum, and you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit excited.
Around two hours post-arrival at the museum, you realized that, maybe modern art wasn’t exactly your thing. But it certainly was Ransom’s. He rambled on and on about different pieces that seemed completely mundane to you. Who knew that someone could talk for nearly half of an hour about a canvas painted completely one color?
You noted a shift in Ransom’s attitude towards you. It was clear that you were willing to put up with his little antics, and as the day went on, he began to let down more and more of the tough guy persona he’d had up for so long. To your Steve, at least, art was something that made him feel a bit vulnerable, and you figured that Ransom held the same sentiment. This thought made you feel vaguely homesick, and go in for a half-hug from Ransom, who gladly returned it while he shamelessly effused.
It wasn’t the same, but for you, it was good enough.
----
You very much enjoyed the rest of your day with Ransom, hopping from interesting site to interesting site with him, and sharing a multitude of fond memories that you hoped would stick with you throughout your inter-dimensional travels.
You ended the night with him on the piano bench in the lobby of your hotel. He wordlessly played a Chopin piece while you mindlessly listened. It was a rather relaxing experience, and quite the finale of your day. You had a bit of a nagging feeling that this was the finale of your time in this universe as well.
“Today was really nice,” out of nowhere, Ransom began.
You hummed in agreement, “it was.”
“I guess I shouldn’t have taken you to all my favorite places on day one, but oh well,” he half chuckled to himself, and you pulled back to look up at Ransom.
“You took me to your favorite places? That’s.. Wow. That’s really sweet,” you glanced down at the piano, then back up at Ransom. He gave you a soft smile in return.
This was the moment, right? The silence that followed that was your perfect opportunity to be kissed. Yet, Ransom wasn’t taking it. So you decided to lean forward slightly, and do it yourself. Catching onto what you were getting ready to do, Ransom moved away from you slightly, and shook his head.
“Hey, I don’t really do that,” Ransom looked down at you, and bit the inside of his lip.
Deep down, you knew that this was just a man who looked like your man rejecting you, but the less rational side of yourself only told you one thing.
Steve was rejecting you.
He was leaving you again, he wouldn’t even kiss you. The thought of it put you somewhere between seeing red, and seeing nothing at all from the tears that were now flooding your vision.
The one thing that had once convinced you to stay, was now begging you to leave.
You reached down to your watch, and fiddled aggressively with it. Part of you felt bad for leaving a version of yourself to deal with the awkward aftermath of what just occurred, but another part of you just wanted to get the hell away from all of the distressing emotions you were feeling.
That part of you seemed to be stronger than anything else. You glanced down at your watch, pressed the button on the side that you were told could make you leave, and let nature take its course after feeling the soft vibrations run throughout your arm.
next chapter
#ransom drysdale x reader#ransom drysdale x you#steve rogers x reader#captain america x reader#ABITRV
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Relative Wonders - P. Mendes (Lookalike Bonus!)
NOTE: so this is not only the longest imagine I have posted on this site (roughly 7.5k+ words) but weirdly it did not take to long to write. THIS IS ALSO BASED IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS MY RAUL FIC “LOOKALIKE” WHICH I RECOMMEND READING BEFORE THIS FOR IT TO MAKE SENSE. For plot purposes, some of the setting details and a name are changed, but other than that this mainly focuses on Julia and Peter and what went on between them. I would also like to tag @lonelyreputation and @itrocksmysocks for their support and being my hypemen while I took time to wrote this. Without them, I porbably would have lost my shit and flung my computer against the wall in frustration. Alright, here it is! <3
The university’s library was buzzing with whispers about the monotonous topics Professor Clayton always seemed to be covering in his lectures, or the 2,000-word paper people were just now beginning to write for Composition II with the acknowledgment of its due date being tomorrow. Normally, Peter would have scurried back to his dorm hall with the unearthed book in hand to avoid any disruptive noises. That was his routine walking into any place other than that which he felt comfortable and welcome. But it was four hours until the library’s closing and he had already begun to feel like a disposition under the apathetic stare of the woman sat behind the front desk when she scanned the novel discussing the many wonders of space. Peter swears he saw the woman’s lips climb into a smile when peering down at the book, but they sagged down hopelessly before the small lines surrounding the pair’s corner could introduce themselves.
“Thank you, ma’am. You have a good night.” Peter’s hand comes out to collect the book in his grip once again, receiving an unintelligible hum in reply. He could picture the warm comforter and lumpy waiting back for him at his dorm as he spun around to exit with a smile. But all at once, the thoughts of strolling out of the door dissipated, and the chair beside Julia morphed into a considerable substitute for his lofted, twin xl bed. Her eyes scanned the collection of pages that sat on her folded, skort-clad legs. Peter’s eyes traveled down her partially bare thighs, down her naked calves, and paused at the sight of her wiggling toes peeking out of the sandals donning her feet. A particular warmth fills him, one which he has been exposed to more often than not and always whenever around the girl. He discovered this pattern after piecing together every event where she was a main character of sorts. The first of the sequence occurred months prior in their Economics class, when the girl—whom Peter always found punctual from her usual attendance and habit of being in the lecture hall ten minutes before the lesson started, every single time—seemed to quite literally be racing the clock this certain day. A foreign body took the opportunity of stealing Julia’s open seat, an impetus for Peter’s brows to clinch together in puzzlement and wonder of where she could be. He was provided an answer close to five minutes later in the form of a meek whisper asking if the seat beside him was taken. Recognizing the voice instantly from each presentation she voiced or answer she gave to the professor’s questions, the brunette’s head snapped up from his ruled notebook covered in blue-inked notes.
He became flustered on instinct, much like whenever she entered the classroom to take her usual seat. Gulping down any squeaks Peter was determined not to let slip from him, he shook his head in approval and pushed the framed glasses accompanying his face further onto the bridge of his nose. When continuing to his notes, Julia turned in her chair to gaze at his profile. He could feel the warmth spreading inside of him that moment with such intensity, knowing Julia was a forearm’s width away from him and studying his flickering eyes and beet red cheeks like it were a textbook. His heartbeat raced at a tempo he never thought possible at the sight of her leaning closer to peer at his notes. She leans away seconds after, deflating both Peter’s excitement and hasty pulse. And she made both screech to a stop with her next whisper.
“Thanks, Peter.” His eyes were still glaring at his paper when he took notice of his name scrawled in the top left of his notes before his heartbeat circumvented back to its original pace, and his cheeks were beyond glowing with red.
“No problem.” Is all he could mutter before he and Julia zoned back into the teacher’s enthusiasm over compound interest. That particular lecture warped to something short-lived and left Peter wistful the following class when he spotted Julia occupying her original seat. Since then, not much conversation had transpired between the two, as they only shared one—surprisingly—populated class and lived who knows how far from each other on campus.
Peter blinks his eyes several times in succession by the sight of her figure shifting and standing up from her seat. Clearing his throat, Peter spun and meandered over towards the wall by the front door, hand coming around his head to scratch the back of his fluffy, umber locks. His eyes trail away from the building’s dusty carpet and catch a glimpse of Julia’s strawberry-tinged locks floating past him and towards the desk, book in hand. To his surprise, the woman at the desk held a nice set of teeth behind her firm-lined lips that Peter found the need to blink greater than before. What was her secret to making the woman smile, Peter wonders? Furthermore, he thinks, why did it not surprise her? Unfamiliar laughter saturates the air, and soon Julia’s was harmonizing with it in quiet giggles. It left Peter’s ears in a momentary trance of sorts from its light, airy sound. From his limited view, he could make out the dimples her freckled cheeks were donning with grace so enamoring, Peter’s insides felt like they had reached a boiling point.
Due to the sensory overload that was only the sight of her, Peter could only make out shards of the hushed conversation. Both of the females thanked one another, and Julia informed her of something’s arrival in the days to come, leaving both ladies giddy with anticipation. After bidding a small farewell with a wave of her hand, Peter saw the pair of sandaled feet pivot from his peripheral view and made quick work to lean against the wall with his head cocked down, adjusting the book comfortably in his grip as he stared into one of the pages, brown eyes trailing along the lines of words but absorbing none of them.
“Nice book.” Her voice piped up as she lifted a finger to aim it at Space Wonders: The Gifts of the Galaxy copy Peter’s hands were currently utilizing. When he lifted his head, though, the body of the voice was gone and in place of it, the entrance to the library swinging shut nearby.
-------
Days have passed since Peter’s debacle at the library, leaving him slightly embarrassed and curious if Julia knew it was him peering down at the old book. She seems like the type of person to compliment strangers on their choice of niche, Peter concluded on his walk back from Astronomy 1102 class. A long, skinny shadow caught his eyes on the pavement and called for his eyes to glance up. When he did peer up from his shuffling steps, his chestnut irises bulged at the sight of the wobbling tower of cardboard boxes. He located two hands and forearms and everything below supporting the bottom of the stack but still lacked a face to the balancing spectacle behind it. He looked around, finding most students peering down at their cellphones or too engrossed in conversation with others to notice either of them. While Peter would much rather stumble into his dorm room for a much-needed nap, the guilt of avoiding this uncoordinated stranger would come back to haunt him if he chose not to. If not guilt, then karma would hunt him down, no doubt.
“Do you need help?” Peter offers, intercepting the piled boxes marching toward him.
The voice pipes up in a soft, “huh,” through the boxes, and turns their body. When Peter is introduced to Julia’s wide, green gems of eyes and parted pink lips he loses all proper direction of his thought for the seconds following. “Oh, hi. Yeah, that’d be great if you could. I should warn you though, they’re kind of—”
“Woah!” The man exclaims, upon taking hold of three of the five small cubes from the stack and nearly dropping them from the unexpected weight.
“…heavy,” Julia finishes, looking up at Peter with a meek smile and shrugging. “They’re books.” She pretends not to notice Peter’s adjusting of the boxes in his arms and the flex of his triceps while he did so.
“All of them?” Peter looks to the two other packages her arms were embracing and earns a nod. “How many classes are you taking?”
Julia her head with a chuckle. “Oh, these aren’t for classes. They’re for me.” She is left unsurprised when Peter’s steps falter and his eyes grow wide behind the framed lenses.
“All of them? To read?” The triplet guffaws, trying to keep his long legs in time with her fast steps. She spares him a glance and elicits a scoff.
“That’s what books are for, last time I checked…” the last few words of her reply are quiet, but still picked up by Peter’s ears. “I like to read, anyways.” She shrugged. Losing all sense in what interactions of theirs were real or Peter’s wandering thoughts in History with Professor Lewis, he blurts out the fact of, “I know,” before his mind could catch up to his tongue. Immediately he wants his teeth to catapult from the edge of his lips and puncture the air around the two of them, leaving no trace that Peter said exactly what he said.
“Oh, do you now?” Julia inquires, raising a brow. “And how exactly do you know this?” Peter shut his eyes and threw his head backward, allowing his chestnut curls to fly back and no longer obstruct the blood rising to his cheeks.
“That sounded bad, didn’t it?” He avoids her interrogative gaze and opts for staring off into the campus’s greenery amidst collecting his words. “I didn’t mean—I mean…I do. But I wasn’t...it was at th-the library, yeah.” His eyes flicker up to meet her befuddled gaze and slow nod as she tried piecing together his barrage of stammers. “I was there the other night and saw you reading…you looked pretty into the story.”
Julia rolls her eyes with a small smile, “it was probably one of the books I’ve been rereading while I wait for these to come in.” She lifts the boxes lightly, and Peter takes notice of a small, lonesome freckle dotted beside her right elbow. “I saw you too,” she admits through a murmur. For a moment, their eyes dart to one another’s, both holding honest looks from the instant they meet until their departure. “You were reading Space Wonders, right? I think I saw this same head of curls on my way out of the door.”
Taking one of her arms out from beneath her stack of boxes, she reaches up to flick a loose curl away from the man’s face, that had been a nuisance for tickling the bridge of his nose and obstructing his view of this a gorgeous woman. Her attempt proved little to no use, once the curl fell back in place moments later in its refusal to be tamed and ultimately, gifted Peter the opportunity to listen to Julia’s melodious laughter again.
“Yeah, sorry I ignored you back there.” The last syllable of his sentence did not finish rolling off of his tongue before the girl gave a small, nonchalant wave of her hand.
“Ah, we’ve all been there. When I was fourteen, I was grounded for a week because I couldn’t put down a book long enough to do chores.”
“Wow, what a rebel you were,” Peter remarks. “Did you read past your bedtime, too?”
Her eyes flick up and to the side as if contemplating a proper answer. Her lips twitched into a small smirk before murmuring a sly, “on occasion,” which left the two grinning wildly.
“A whole week, huh?” He lifts his brows. “Must’ve been a good read.”
“It was amazing! Well, what I got to read of it, at least. My parents took it away for the week and when I finally finished all of the chores, they said it got lost.”
“What? No!”
“I know!” She mimics his dismayed tone of voice. “And by that point, I only had, like, three chapters to finish.”
“Do you remember the name of the book?” The girl shakes her head with a downtrodden expression. It was one Peter never hoped to see again, as he preferred the craters by her lips and taught-pulled cheeks much more.
“I could tell you every detail of the plot like the back of my hand, some character names…but it’s been so long that whenever I try thinking of the name or author, I just blank.” Her voice croaks in disappointment, and Peter finds his insides sinking when she slows her footing. “Well, this is me.” His eyes shift from her to the dorm building and his mouth parts open.
“You live in Dixon?”
“Yeah.”
“So do I. How come we’ve never run into each other before?” Peter wonders aloud, brows furrowing together.
Julia hums, taking the rest of the boxes from the boy’s grip. “Beats me. Think about it and tell me later. See ya, Peter!” She calls, retreating inside of the building and to her respective side where all of the girl’s dorms were located. Still, Peter stood gobsmacked, no longer from the revelation that they both lived in the same residence hall, but the words she left him to manifest. He was unaware when ‘later’ would be, but he was holding Julia to it through every bounce in his step back up to his room. All Peter yearned for was a nap before running into Julia, but when entering the room and replaying the account for himself, over and over, he knew the endeavor would be fruitless. He settled for ripping out a sheet of paper from one of his notebooks and hastily jotting a note for later onto it, pinning it to the corkboard hung on the concrete wall.
FIND BOOK, the paper read.’
------
Perhaps it was the newfound information about the girl or the conversation Peter had shared with her that ended in a potential ‘later’ that encouraged him to confide in his brothers. When he informed Shawn and Raul with his recent infatuation, the weight lifted from him as he was met with proud cheers and pats on the back from his older siblings.
“So, when are you gonna ask her out?” Raul asks.
“What?” Peter quips, raising his eyebrows.
“Well, you like her.” Shawn shrugs. “Ask her out.” Unlike his brother’s Peter was not one to commit to an idea the first go-round. Every assignment he turns in requires heavy outlining, drafting, and sometimes scrapping if the result did not meet his standards. He would find himself spending hours in the grocery store, wary of which brand of laundry detergent was better for fighting stains or second-guessing if it was cheddar or sharp cheddar he enjoyed best on his sandwiches. Asking a girl out was a territory the man still had yet to explore and conquer, and Peter acknowledged that this venture of his would make the grocery store look easygoing in comparison.
Peter thought his brief excuse of, “it’s not that easy,” would fulfill his brothers’ prying. He was proved wrong when they argued back immediately with their chorus of, “of course it is” and “just play it cool, be confident.”
“I appreciate the help, guys but I already have a plan…” Upon hearing this, Raul and Shawn harmonized in anguished groans.
“A plan? Pete, you might as well just make a blueprint of the restaurant you’re taking her to!” The oldest scrubs a hand over his face.
“Some things don’t have to be planned out, dude.” Shawn brings his hand up to rub harsh circles into one of Peter’s shoulders. “If you just ask her out—”
“I will ask her out,” Peter confirms, surprising himself with the assertion in his voice. “But, just…let me do it my way.” His desperate plea was enough for Shawn and Raul to concede to his wishes. When they left the room, he found himself staring at the corkboard across the room, eyes burning holes into the lined paper screaming “FIND BOOK” at him. The boy brings a hand up to his temples, which were beginning to throb, and deciphers now is an opportune time for a nap. Shutting his eyes, he wastes no time removing his glasses and falling back against the old mattress with a grunt. He buries his face into the pillows beneath him and let his nostrils soak in the strawberry air freshener circulating the room. Flashes of Julia’s straight, amber-hued locks flash in his mind, and he becomes whisked away to sleep replaying the tune of her giggles with a smile curling onto his lips.
------
That same smile completely crumbled the following day, when he was sat with his two brothers and Raul’s girlfriend on their side of the semi-private dorm. Their other roommate, Connor, was out of town for the week which meant all of them felt no pressure ending conversation so early so the boy could get some sleep. A small lull hit their jabbering, one of the many Harry Potter films the triplets held in their possession now just playing on Shawn’s laptop as background noise.
“Mm,” Shawn hummed, “Pete, I ran into that girl from your Econ class the other day. What’s her name…” Shawn snapped his fingers repeatedly as if it would power the energy to the dim bulb in his brain.
“Julia?” Peter’s piqued interest and raised eyebrows were noticed immediately by Aryn, who sat up from her lean against Raul’s chest on his bed they were claiming.
“Ooh, who’s Julia?” She sang in question. Peter found heat scorching his cheeks in seconds and shook his head.
“Nobody.”
“Only his crush for, what, two years now—”
“Shawn!” The younger of the three hisses, eyes narrowed through the frames of his glasses. He now regrets spilling his guts to the middle brother.
“What? Aryn’s a girl, she could probably help you ask her out.” Raul reasons with Shawn nodding alongside. The youngest of the three was more irritable than before with the oldest justifying Shawn and his big mouth.
“Well, about that…” Shawn’s hand reaches up to scratch the back of his head. Peter’s eyes are swollen instantly and Aryn gasps, even more, invested than before.
“What? What’d you do?” Peter demands, voice stern. He could feel one of his eyes begin twitching uncontrollably behind his glasses and hands begin furling themselves into fists.
“Well, when we were talking, she kind of thought you were me…so, I did the job for you—”
“You WHAT?!” Peter bellows, standing up and running his fingers viscously through his curls. He shakes his head and murmurs ‘no’ many times, alongside a string of curses. Had it not been for his feet already abandoned of his sneakers, a line would have been present on the floor from his uncontrollable pacing. “How? W-where?” He demands, hands frantically flailing about to reach for any invisible answers for his cries.
It was actually inside of the campus’s small coffee shop that his brother and his brother’s crush crossed paths. When Shawn’s hand embraced the warm Styrofoam cup being handed to him by the barista stood behind the counter, he sent an appreciative nod and spun around, almost sending the cup of coffee flying. His chest inflated from the sharp breath he took, and the girl observed it with a curious stare. It was not one of the looser sweaters she always thought Peter modeled so charmingly, and rather a tight-fitted, solid tee-shirt.
“Sorry,” the girl murmurs and tucks a few frizzy strands of hair to rest behind her hair while taking two steps backward. She glanced up shyly into Shawn’s eyes. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“That’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Shawn assures, thinking that was where the conversation with the unfamiliar face would conclude. He was proven wrong when she failed to move from her spot in front of him and fidgeted with her fingernails, coated with flakes of nail polish she needed to remove at this point.
“Um, I just wanted to say thank you for the other day. Walking all the way back to Dixon with those boxes by myself would have been a nightmare.” Her freckled cheeks become stained with pink as she lets out a nervous chuckle. Shawn furrows his eyebrows and opted for a slow nod in reply, though he did not remember this girl or the boxes she was referring to.
“Well, that’s all I came to talk to you about…unless there was anything you wanted to say to me…” There was a lull to her voice that was hinting for Shawn to say something, but he was blanking on what exactly that could be. The girl releases a breath after a few moments of silence and glances down at her shoes with an expression of understanding.
“Right then, I’ll just be out of your hair. You look different without your glasses, by the way.” This comment piques Shawn’s interest and he could feel the tips of his ears become erect with attention.
“What?” He murmurs, seeing her pivot on her feet. “Wait…hang on…uh…” What did Peter say her name was, Shawn thinks to himself? Justine, Juliette, ah—
“Julia!” Shawn calls, racing behind her to the doorway.
“Yes?” Hastily, she spins to meet his brown eyes, which appeared much darker beneath the shop’s lights. Her green eyes were growing and expectant…yearning. Shawn's lips withdrew to explain his confusion, but a different thought prevented it. If she thinks I am Peter, he muses to himself...
“I’m sorry. I’m just bad with this stuff, you know. Talking to you…just makes me…”
“I know. Me too.” She admits, eyes never breaking away from Shawn’s as he begins to gnaw his bottom lip in contemplation.
“Usually I like to plan out everything I do, but I really, really hate waiting to do this.”
“Then don’t wait, Peter. Just say it.” Shawn felt a tingle of guilt run up his arm when Julia placed her hand on his shoulder. His younger brother was going to be in dire need of an update on his love life later.
“Okay, erm…Julia, will you go out with me?” Before Shawn even finished the question, her arms were taught around his neck with the smaller girl squealing “yes” excitedly into his chest and hop-scotching her feet against the café floor.
“Dude calm down! She said yes.” Shawn informs. “She wants to go out with you!” He cheers, reaching out from his beanbag chair to give Peter’s shoulder an encouraging jostle with a grin.
“No, you don’t understand! I-I’m way too nervous, I can barely talk to her half the time. I’m going to make a complete fool of myself.” Peter wails, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Hang on, you’re telling me she thought you were Peter?” Aryn scoffs, pointing between the two boys. “I don’t believe that.” She gives a firm shake of her head.
“Um, and why not?” Shawn inquires, crossing his arms.
“Yeah, babe, I mean they call us identical for a reason,” Raul interjects, turning to face his girlfriend.
“You guys don’t resemble one another at all! I could tell you guys apart with my eyes closed.” She mimics Shawn’s cross of the arms, sending a challenging look in each of their directions.
“Well, that’s only because you’ve known us for so long,” Peter replies, now devoted to arguing this theory with his brother’s girlfriend.
“And you see and hang out with us all of the time.” Raul continues. This earns a challenging raise of your eyebrows in his direction, making him clear his throat and begin rubbing her side up and down in comfort with his large palm. “Not-not that that’s a bad thing…honey.” She rolls her eyes at his “save” and turns her attention back to the original instigator, Shawn.
“All I’m saying is, you guys aren’t as alike as you seem.”
“Um, guys?” Peter’s voice rising in volume was enough to break the argument. “Can we focus on the fact that there’s a girl I can barely talk properly around expecting some phenomenal date…when are we going out?”
“Friday at seven.”
“This Friday?” Peter squeaks. “That’s—that’s three days away…how am I going to—”
“Shhh…relax.” Shawn comes to stand before Peter, taking him by the shoulders. “We’ll help you plan something, right gu—” As Shawn turns his head to receive words of comfort from Raul and Aryn, the two brothers are instead met with the door separating the two rooms slamming shut and the sounds of the couple’s flirty giggles.
“Oh no, guys that’s my bed! Wait—” Peter wriggles himself away from Shawn’s grip and charges for the door. His frenzied hand wraps around the door handle and jiggles furiously. To his misfortune, they were clever enough to turn the lock on the door. Peter groans helplessly and walks over to flop down face-first in the beanbag Shawn was previously occupying. He is still in shock that his brother got to experience the feeling of holding Julia before he was given the opportunity. He wanted to feel her face digging into his collarbone and become victim to the chokehold her arms would put him in from her eagerness about the date, or new books, or acing yet another economics test.
“You owe me a hug.” He mumbles into the fabric, earning a bewildered look from Shawn from across the room.
-------
“Do you ever get tired of words?” Her stare moves from the crossword puzzle sat on her lap toward the direction of the acquainted voice. A smile crawls onto her lips as he continues approaching the bench, she made herself comfortable on close to fifteen minutes ago, and she thinks back to the day before at the coffee shop on campus. Automatically, the blood rushes upwards to the sides of her face before further words could be exchanged.
“Never,” Julia replies seconds later with a smile and scoots to make room for the long-legged boy to sit beside her. He takes the invitation gratefully and plops himself down beside her.
“So…”
“So…” She mocks, physically feeling the wall of tension climbing to separate the two of them. There was something about how Peter presented himself yesterday that gave her some sort of confidence boost. She noticed him from afar and did not question her actions for one second during her entire march into the store, nor when she took her standing behind him.
“This was so much easier, yesterday. I don’t understand…” She shakes her head, earning a sideways look from Peter. A lightbulb illuminates in her brain, blessed with an idea that needed no involvement in confronting Peter's nerves. She turns to face him with a stern tone. “Take off your glasses.”
“What?”
“Just trust me, okay?” Without further objections, Peter unleashes a breath and reaches up to remove the framed spectacles from his face. Upon doing so, all of the world clarity washes away and the only thing making him aware of Julia’s presence was the glowing, strawberry-blonde aura framing her figure.
“How do I look?” She inquires.
“Blurry.” He replies with a small pout, folding the temples of the glasses over one another. “What about me?”
Julia chuckles, tilting her head to absorb the view of him without his usual accessory. “Well, your eyes look smaller, for one thing…but I don’t mind.”
“No?” Peter makes out a vague movement in front of him.
“I can actually see your eye color without reflections blocking it.” Peter shivers when her warm palm makes contact with his cheek. He makes out the faint smell of perfume wafting from her wrist and inhales deeply, feeling the warmth spread about his system. She brushes the soft pad of her thumb around the perimeter of his eyes, whispering to herself, “they’re like gold.” Her eyes travel down his features, noticing a small nick on the bridge of his nose that she does not recall being there yesterday. His lips were parted lightly from her ministrations and his body was patiently awaiting her next move. The sight of his folded glasses, secure in his palm, cues another lightbulb to flicker on in her head.
“May I?” She requests, cloaking Peter’s hand with her own. Though her eyes resembled two, jade crystals lacking clarity, he could picture the longing gaze they held within them. He relinquished the grip on his frames and feels her fingertips glide along his palm as they grasp the pair of glasses. She is quick to set the spectacles over her own eyes, and the fuzzy sight of frames surrounding her eyes makes Peter smile viscously.
“Now you look blurry,” Julia says with a smile. Peter realizes now why the lack of sight took away so much of the vulnerability. The reactions of either of them would be difficult to decipher and all the more comforting for both of them.
“You look beautiful.” His reply sends blood to both of their cheeks, but neither acknowledges it.
“Says the guy who can’t even see.” She mutters in response, turning her face down.
“May I?” Peter repeats her earlier question and carefully situates the frames back onto the bridge of his nose. “Well, I stand corrected.” Julia lifts her head. “You are strikingly gorgeous.” This earned him a small scoff and light shove against his shoulder.
“I was about to head to the library to turn in some books…would you like to join me?” She stood from the bench and slung the hefty tote over her shoulder.
“Wait you just give away all your books to the library?” Peter's brows furrow.
"Just the ones I've finished reading." Julia elucidates, but Peter's puzzlement is unchanging.
"Why? You could sell them or keep them..." Julia begins giggling lightly at the man before her. His bottom lip jutted out as she had just stolen a piece of candy from his grasp as the occasional breeze traveled through his curls. Part of his furrowed brows was being shielded by his glasses, and he could not appear more adorable in the girl's eyes.
"I don't need the money, and I wouldn't have the space to keep all of the books I get. Besides," she shrugs, "someone will probably be interested in one of them and want to read it."
"Like the other night...when I was reading--"
"Space Wonders." They finish together. Julia sending him an approving nod.
"Exactly."
"Was that one of yours too?"
"Well, technically my little brother's." She corrects in a small voice. "So, you comin' or what?"
"I'd be honored," Peter answers, laying his open hand against the middle of his test. Julia simply rolls her eyes and grabs his dangling hand with her's without a second thought. The warm contact draws sharp breaths from both of them, but Peter did not oppose the feeling. Rather, he laced their fingers together and spared the girl a small smile.
She smiles and orders him "come on," before leading the way to her favorite building. Seeing her eager smile growing with each sound of her foot hitting the pavement; how she swayed their arms back and forth violently in her excitement, flourishing to the point where it was impossible to hide and elevated the moment their feet were planted to the library's entrance. Peter stood certain that it was his favorite building too.
He held the door ajar for her keen figure to leap through and drag him along to the front desk. There was a small sign instructing to ring the small bell sat on the desk to alert one of the workers. Julia obeyed and tapped the small notch with the tip of her pointer finger, allowing a melodious ding to swell in the quiet vicinity.
"One minute," The voice of the desk woman calls from a back room. Various shuffling noises are heard, and Peter took a chance at the pause to turn to Julia and ask, "what's your little brother's name?"
Her body froze, lips divided with no words exiting. She was caught off guard by the abrupt questioning but should have expected it. Of course, Peter was curious about her sibling. It was one of the few things he knew about Julia that she told him personally. It was something they shared in common, more importantly. Knowing Peter's stubborn manner, or at least being exposed to it, Julia knew the subject would not be dropped until first being acknowledged.
Fortunately, their conversation was intercepted when the front desk woman waddled from the back room. A broad smile, similar to the one she held a few days prior at Julia and Peter's last library visit, climbed onto her face. She squinted her eyes in joy at the tote bag Julia adjusted to stand erect on the desk and looked up to the young students, baring her crows' feet to them.
"Thank you, sweetheart. How are the new ones?" The immediate questioning breaks Julia from her catatonic stance and into a fit of laughs instead.
"I just got them, Phyllis. Don't be so impatient."
"We both know you've got the eyes of a speed-reader." The woman remarks, removing the library's new contenders from the bag.
"I've just been...busy." She and Peter turned to each other at the same time, locking eyes with one another and revealing sweet smiles. Phyllis does not take notice, too engrossed with her newest collection of paperback beauties.
"You're never too busy for books, child! You told me once your heart couldn't fit anything else if it tried."
"I don't know," she lowers her gaze to Peter's large hand encompassing hers, "maybe it had a growth spurt."
-------
The night following their trip to the library, Peter pulled his car outside of the entrance to Dixon hall and was furiously tapping his hands against the steering wheel. The suit jacket and white button-up beneath it were hugging his arms in all the wrong places, making the need to shed himself of it grow impossibly larger. The vehicle’s air conditioning was fixed to its highest setting, yet he still felt perspiration building against his forehead and hairline. He would have mistaken the red tie for a boa constrictor the way it was cemented around his neck, had he not known exactly what he was doing in a suit in the first place. The scheme all triplets were confronted about took place at a friend’s apartment only one hour prior but was debriefed at a much more leisurely pace than Peter felt confident about. He barely scurried out of the complex with his keys in time and screeched to a halt two minutes before his and Julia’s scheduled meeting time. He had sent Julia a message, announcing his arrival upon shifting the gear to park. The green numbers on the car’s radio stared back at him dauntingly, begging him to try to make the quick change before she exited the building. In any other scenario, which did not involve 'Julia' and 'first date' in the same sentence, he would have stripped himself of elegant clothing without hesitation. But he waited a few moments instead, glancing around warily in fear of late-night, wandering students. When no figures were seen to arise suspicion in him, he heaved a large breath of air and quickly shrugged himself from the dark jacket, making quick work of the crimson tie and transparent buttons lining the front of the shirt.
After detaching himself from the entire top half of the outfit, his shirtless figure reached into the car’s backseat for a supplementary hoodie. I knew this would come in handy one day, he thinks to himself. Upon pulling it over his head, his vision was temporarily obstructed by the cloth, but his ears perked at the sound of the passenger’s side door opening and a light gasp. He tugged the remainder of the top down to cover his front half and face a blushing Julia, who just witnessed his changing.
“I’m so sorry.” She says quietly, covering her face.
“It’s okay.”
“I didn’t know you were—”
“It’s--.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Julia,” she looks up from her hands, feeling her face burning with humiliation. “I promise, it’s okay.” He was blushing quite obviously with her, but the comforting tone of voice he offered her did well to pacify the somersaults her insides were performing relentlessly.
“Can I ask?”
“It’s a long story,” the boy sighs and runs a hand through his gelled curls. She shakes her head and resumes swinging open the passenger door, sliding herself into her seat. The small light from the radio illuminated her profile, disclosing her bloodshot eyes and shaky breathing she seemed to still have difficulty steadying. Peter knew these reactions could not be sourced from what had just transpired between him, but he did not know if it was worth starting small talk and asking if she was okay when she did not appear as though she was. Deciphering not to acknowledge it, he simply reached for the knob to turn on the soothing pop playing from the local station and begin the drive to the destination of their outing.
“Where are we going again?” Julia croaks, voice dipping and rising arbitrarily. It made Peter’s heart tense and give his throat the same constrictive feeling. His hands gripped the wheel tighter as he attempted to ramp up the lightheartedness of his voice, in hopes, she would contract some of the emotion from him like she did nervous flutters.
“Well, you’ve let me experience what makes you happy. I figured it’s only fair I reciprocate.” He makes a turn onto a road unfamiliar to Julia’s eyes. The puffy pair of orbs gazed ponderously at the line of trees fortifying each side of the barren, dirt road.
“And that would be…” Her voice trails, beckoning an answer. Peter’s lips just quirk up as he answers with an enigmatic, “you’ll see.”
When his car approached the clearing and came to a steady break, he turned to Julia expectantly. She was already staring back at him, a teasing smile tugging the corners of her notably, chapped lips. “Peter, you know jumping off a cliff because your friends do is just an expression.”
He chuckles and pretends not to view the red lines surrounding her pupils. But the emerald eyes, like beacons facing him only, aided to make the red stand out more.
“Stargazing?” She guesses before he could answer for her.
“The sky’s going to be so clear of clouds tonight we’ll be able to see Venus. And maybe Mercury, if we’re lucky.”
“I feel pretty lucky to be here tonight, I don’t know about you.” She replies. An adoring smile stretches on Peter’s lips as he feels the warmth subdue his insides again, and the sensation of her hand entering his own and squeezing it.
Minutes later, they were sat on the hood of his car with a blanket sprawled over there bodies. While their hands were laced together, that was the most contact either felt comfortable with at the moment. They stared up in silence, Peter breaking it to point out any various constellations he could discern in the twinkling sky. When he broke it another time, what he inquired startled the girl beside him.
“What did you say your little brother’s name was?”
Her voice wavered in her answer, and she shifted her body slightly against the vehicle. “Uh…Ch-Charlie.” Peter glanced down to see her lips pressed against each other in a line.
“Julia…”
“It was his anniversary today…” Her eyes fell closed, her forehead clenching in attempts to disguise the sadness which had been building on her features all night. “I-I’m so sorry Peter I wanted to tell you…”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” She shook her head furiously back and forth. “B-because I even forgot today. All I could focus on was our date and I didn’t even realize what day it was until I checked the calendar and…I felt so guilty. I-I feel selfish.”
“Don’t be. You could have canceled, I wouldn’t have felt bad.”
“But I would’ve.” Her voice was blubbering and strained as she rested a hand to her chest. “It would have been so last-minute and-and I hate being the bearer of bad news. I couldn’t…and I thought I could keep it together…”
“You don’t need to. Come here.” His hand leaves hers to extend his arms to fit her frame, and Julia wastes no time falling into his comforting hold. She soaked the cotton hoodie with her tears, clenching it tight against her fist while Peter ensured to embrace her even tighter. “I don’t want to speak for your brother…but I imagine he’s proud of you. He’s watching over us right now, I’m sure of it.”
Julia removes her head from his hoodie-clad torso, forcing a laugh as she swipes at her leaking eyes. “You think?” Her scratchy voice asks. Peter only smirks and juts a finger to the open sky.
“My mom always said to always look out for the brightest stars, because they’re the most important.” Both move their eyes away from each other’s gazes and transfix them onto Venus, who was glinting back at them in all its beauty. Julia was caught in a trance for a few moments, absorbing the sight. And while the planet did hold a glorious brightness, Peter’s certain the sparkle reflected in her eye’s was lighter.
“Thanks, Peter.” She turns to him, chest rising and falling with slow breaths. “I needed that.”
“Of course,” he delivers a sincere nod, before sitting up and sliding off of the hood. “Now, onto the actual surprise.” Julia perks up also, staring at him puzzled.
“What?”
“Oh come on, you didn’t think I just brought you here to stare at the stars. I had to make it fun for both of us.” He rolls his eyes and opens the door to the car’s backseat, screening himself from Julia’s view.
“But I was having fun!” She insists, further curling herself into the blanket due to the recent absence of warmth.
“Well, then you’re going to have a field day when I show you what I got!” Peter exclaims. The sound of a door shutting is heard, and he quickly shuffles to situate himself beside Julia. She turns to peek behind his back, where his hand was hidden with what she presumes to be the so-called “real surprise” she would “have a field day” over.
“What you got there, Mendes?” She asks, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“Oh, only the book you got grounded a week over and never got to finish…” He nonchalantly reveals the hardcover novel with a sly grin. Julia’s eyes bulged as she marveled the cover, now looking all too familiar in her vision.
“Wha—I—how did you…?”
“For a girl who’s on a first-name basis with the librarian I’m surprised you never asked her about the book.” That was Peter’s first hunting site when he demanded over his and Julia’s string of text messages for her to recount everything she remembers about the legendary lost book. She shared any pieces of lines or quotes she could remember, character names, an estimated number of pages. But no details stuck out to Peter in particular, therefore, Phyllis was the only reliable source he could contact quickly for the information.
“She knew?” Her eyes grew wider in disbelief.
His lips twitched slightly downward. “Not exactly.” He described his quest to the library to Julia, and the desperate pleas in his voice for Phyllis to find the book after an internet search resulted in no contenders. The book sounded as foreign to the woman as it did Peter, which left the boy hopeless in despair and Phyllis shrugging, saying he could search the non-fiction sections as much as he would like before the library locked their doors.
“Peter,” Julia gasps, “that library’s like, six levels!”
“Yeah, but a good third of it was educational stuff. You’d be surprised at how scant their non-fiction section is, honestly. How did you not find it before?” This earns him a small smack to his torso, very much guarded by the hoodie, and barely felt due to the playfulness in Julia’s physical anger. Afterward, though, she kept her hand there and peered up into his eyes with a lovesick stare. Whether or not this night led to further rendezvous—and lord, she hoped it did—she would be eternally grateful for the trouble Peter went through to scout this book out.
“Alright, enough staring! You have the book now!” Peter cheers with a chuckle. She laughs along with him and returns her eyes to the long-lost treasure in his secure grip. When she reaches out for it, Peter stops her and pulls the book away. He takes his free hand to rest against her warm cheek, grazing his thumb just below her tired eyes.
“Your eyes have done enough work for the day.” He states. “Let me.” With this, he takes a reading light resting behind him and clips it to the back of the book, turning it on.
“Alright,” he begins flicking pages rapidly to near the end. “You said the last three chapters?”
Julia hums, “start from the beginning,” and places her head onto his shoulder. The stars teeter in the sky and ogle at the couple below them, who were too busy being transported to a different world. “I don’t want to forget a single thing about this.” Peter considers her words held a second meaning to them but did not want to keep her waiting long. So, he stores the question in the back of his mind, for another day, and opts for flipping back to one of the first pages sewn to the book’s spine as the lady requested.
He begins reading aloud, filling the silent clearing with noise once more. “The sky has a peculiar way of being relative to everyone…”
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I am going to assume that this question was meant for the mun and not Wolf. So my apologies if I misunderstood what you’re asking for.
When it comes to creative storytelling, character development is its lifeblood. If, at the end of your story, your character remains the exact same person they were when the story began, your readers are very likely going to walk away from you feeling empty-handed, gypped, like they didn’t gain anything meaningful from reading your story. Character development is what makes a story engaging because character development is what moves the story along. Moving the plot forward in a captivating manner begins with how the character views the world, this is dictated by past experiences, people they’ve been around, personal opinion – things like that. These sorts of things are what make up interesting character motivation. You see, if a knight is going to save the princess simply because it’s the just right thing to do, sure, you’ve got a motivation but you’ve got a really bland story. Why should I care about the knight? What’s the point of cheering him on? Do I really give a shit if the princess is saved?
As a contrast, in the first movie, Shrek begins the story quite apathetic and uninterested in the plight of the fairy tale creatures. He wants to shut everyone out and be on his own because the whole world has shut him out first; they don’t treat him like a person. He won’t admit it out loud, but he’s protecting himself from getting hurt. The plot of the movie moves forward only because he’s been promised that his swamp would be returned to him if he meets his end of the bargain. His motivation is peace and quiet, solitude, and apathy. He doesn’t have any attachment to the princess he’s rescuing, not at first. When Fiona begins to treat him like a real person with real feelings, he begins to feel differently. His guard drops, his opinions change, and his motivations change. The story shifts; he no longer gives a fuck about his swamp. He just wants Fiona. This is huge, because just a little while ago, he was scaring off humans and preferring to be all alone. This is how character development drives a story.
Development, though, isn’t a straight line, however. Sometimes a character can make progress, and then regress. This keeps the character dynamic; it makes them realistic. As human beings, none of us are perfect, and as we continue to grow, we’ll reach obstacles that will challenge us. Sometimes those challenges will bring out the worst of us; sometimes facing a challenge can resurrect old, bad habits. We have all have flaws! This should be reflected in character development. Seeing a character face this sort of thing, a failure, a flaw, is extremely important because it keeps them grounded. It keeps them life-like. Your character is something for people to connect to, and making them relatable like that will always draw people in. They’ll care about their struggles, their challenges, and their goals. They’ll want to see that princess rescued; they’ll want to cheer that knight on as he fights that dragon and scales the tallest tower, because they care a lot about that knight. Character development is a large aspect of storytelling because of how much it is responsible for. It links the reader to the character, it is immersion, it is character motivation.
To gain a better insight on how important character development is, I suggest reading Daphne du Maurier‘s book, “Rebecca”. The character and narrator is purposefully never named because she’s meant to be within the shadow of “Rebecca” the late wife of a main character. This unnamed woman is the second wife, and the story purposefully frames her as “Rebecca 2.0″, though her active characterization is defined much more than that. It’s an interesting writing experiment and it’s worth checking out.
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Last Chance
pairing: jungkook x oc
genre: detective au
wc: 2.6k
warnings: cursing, mention of hazing in passing, jungkook and yoongi wear dresses and heels undercover, mention of prostitution, jungkook gets called a lady
a/n: I may continue this someday, but for now it’s in the rejects masterlist
date: August 1, 2020
“This is all your fault, Jeon!”
“Mine?! You’re the one who suggested The Rogue Hotel!” Jeon fires back angrily, folding his arms across his chest. The hard surface of the metal bench making him wish he were anywhere else but there.
“And who suggested we wear the dresses, huh?”
“Still you, Min!” Jeon scoffs, his eyes shooting daggers at his older partner sitting beside him in a black dress with black wedges on his feet. They can’t even sit far apart from each other because they’ve been handcuffed together.
“Oh, you’re right,” Min chuckles, his head lolling back to rest against the concrete wall, his eyes fluttering shut as he listens to the officers on the other side of their holding cell.
“What are we going to do now? Chief Kim is going to have our ass!” Jeon exclaims worriedly as he looks past the metal bars to see the officers of a nearby precinct huddled together waiting for the fingerprint results to come back.
“We need to call Namjoon,” Min sighs dejectedly knowing his ass will get chewed out once again and possibly get demoted.
“How could you not know The Rogue was a hotel known for ‘ladies of the night’?” Jeon is still fuming at his partner, his leg now bouncing up and down with anxiety. They would get into so much trouble once Chief Kim found out.
“Is that common knowledge?” How do you even know that, Jeon?”
“Ever had a conversation with Seokjin in booking? He loves the Rogue,” Jeon explains as he worries his lip between his teeth. His heart is pounding in his chest erratically, sweat running down the back of his neck to soak into the material of his emerald green dress. His silver heels are pinching his toes and all he can think about is trying to get out without his boss finding out.
“Seokjin and The Rogue? Huh, ain’t that something?” Min muses in his seat, already giving up on the idea that he’d be getting out unscathed from this failed operation.
“Can you fucking focus? In a few minutes they’re going to realize who we are and call Namjoon!” Jeon hisses, making Min roll his eyes in annoyance.
“Isn’t it better to just get it over with?”
“You’re giving up already?” Jeon questions his partner, who shrugs in response without giving a verbal answer.
“Jeon! Min!” Both men turn to see their arresting officer standing in front of them with a wide, knowing grin on his face.
“My girlfriend is going to leave me after this!” Min groans as he drags Jeon’s hand upwards to rub at his face in frustration. His world was collapsing in seconds after another failed mission, and his girlfriend had made it clear she would leave him if he lost his job. Min had nothing left to give, so he waited to be reprimanded.
“What? Why?” Jeon asks, his head whipping to turn to his partner, ignoring the arresting officer.
“She wants a baby and if I lose my job, then she’ll leave me. She’s tired of waiting,” Min shrugs, turning his head to the annoyed officer struggling with the lock on the cell, Jeon noticing the name Jung on his badge.
“Chief Kim is here... and he’s not happy,” Officer Jung smirks as the two men see their chief walk into the room, eyes in slits with rage, his jaw taut as he storms towards their cell. Officer Jung opens the cell, motioning for the two detectives to come towards him, his key undoing the handcuffs.
“Thank you, Officer Jung. I’ll take it from here,” Chief Namjoon states, his eyes not leaving his incompetent subordinates. Both men look at their feet, faces burning with embarrassment as the entire squad room laughs at them before Chief Namjoon is turning on his heel and walking towards the exit.
Jeon and Min push each other, avoiding the gaze of the squad room as they follow their Chief. Jeon’s heels clicking on the tile floor, his face scarlet with humiliation. He’s never been more humiliated in his life, not even during hazing at the academy.
Chief Kim doesn’t speak as he opens the squad car, motioning for Min and Jeon to get in the back, he’s too enraged to have one of them in the front seat. They’re not deserving.
The whole drive back to their precinct is silent, Jeon focuses his attention on the passing buildings while Min is trying to accept his fate of being unemployed and single.
When the car finally stops in front of the precinct, Chief Kim is too mortified to have them walk in with him through the door. He types in the code to allow himself in, opening the door to his office to quickly escort Min and Jeon inside.
The two subordinates take a seat in front of Chief Kim’s desk, the door slamming shut behind Chief Kim as he stomps to his desk to sit on his chair. Nothing is said as he places his elbows on his desk, his head falling into his hands as he rubs his face over and over in frustration.
“Jeon, tell me what the fuck happened? Why are you wearing dresses? Why The Rogue? And why the hell where you both arrested for solicitation?” Chief Kim questions his youngest detective, wondering if his previous precinct had sent him over to his precinct as a joke.
“We were under cover and things got dicey,” Jeon starts, making Min nod in agreement next to him.
“We went to find Choi, and we got a tip saying he operated out of The Rogue but the only way to see him was if we dressed like we wanted to work for him... which explains the dresses,” Jeon motions to his sparkling dress with a shy smile before cowering under Chief Kim’s glowering face.
“The solicitation charge? Which of you idiots did that?” Chief Kim sighs, leaning back into his chair. He can feel his blood pressure spiking and he knows damn well he needs to get rid of these two detectives to have his stress reduced.
“That was my fault, Chief. I was talking to one of Choi’s guards and when the police came in to do their raid, they assumed that’s what I was doing,” Min mumbles, cheeks pink with embarrassment.
“Why do you two always do this? I’ve tried putting you with different partners, different assignments, even loaned you out to other precincts and you can’t get your act together? How did you make it this far?” Chief Kim is exasperated, fueled with anger, but he knows slamming his fist on his desk can only do so much for him.
“Please, don’t fire Min. His entire life is depending on this job,” Jeon pleads for his partner, surprising him and Chief Kim.
“Is that so?”
“Please, you can fire me if you want, but not Detective Min,” Jeon pleads again, his eyes widening to look more fragile and innocent. When Chief Kim gives a dejected sigh, Jeon knows he’s won.
“Min, you’re suspended for two weeks with pay. Go now. Jeon, we need to talk,” Chief Kim states, waving Min out of the room.
Min hesitates, looking at his partner before Jeon sends him a weak smile. Min bites his lip, not knowing what to say or do before he’s out the door.
Once the door closes shut, Chief Kim looks at Jeon in disappointment. He had thought he would go far in the department, but now he knew there was no hope for him.
“I’ve given you so many chances, Jeon. Tell me why I shouldn’t send you out on your ass right now?” Chief Kim demands while Jeon just stares back apathetically. He didn’t have a reason.
A knock on the door interrupts the two men, Chief Kim’s eyes turning to the door as he hollers out a ‘yes?’
“Chief Han from the Royal precinct is here to see you. He claims it’s urgent,” An officer states poking his head in and out after they relay the message. Chief Kim’s dark, furious eyes land on Jeon, “this isn’t over yet.”
Jeon swallows harshly, knowing he’s in deep now. He straightens out his dress, tugging on the hem to bring it down lower on his thighs. A second later the door opens and Chief Han walks in, looking at Jeon and chuckling.
“I see he’s still here. Good,” Chief Han states looking at Chief Kim before shutting the door after him and sitting on the empty chair beside Jeon.
“What can I help you with, Han?” Namjoon turns his attention to the man who had released his subordinates to him earlier that evening.
“Need a favor is all; an eye for an eye, so to speak,” Chief Han smiles widely, his eyes meeting Namjoon’s.
“What kind of favor? Must be important if you made it all the way here,” Namjoon’s voice is clipped, knowing better than to be too trusting of the man before him.
“I’ve got a case I’d like to pass on is all,” Chief Han shrugs, placing a thick folder onto the desk and sliding it to Namjoon. Namjoon takes it, eyeing it suspiciously as he looks through its content.
“Why do you want to pass this on?” Namjoon asks, Jeon remains silent in his seat knowing it’s better to keep quiet than open his mouth and get into even deeper trouble.
“My officers and detectives refuse to watch the brat. I’ve had several threaten to leave the force over her. I can’t run a department with no officers,” Chief Han says sullenly, feeling mortified at having to admit that.
“What makes you think my officers will do better?”
“I don’t think they’ll do better, but you do owe me a favor... over the lady here,” Chief Han smirks, pointing his thumb at Jeon’s burning red face.
Chief Kim groans in frustration. Of course, Jeon and Min would add another problem to this eventful night.
“I’ll call you with the details,” Chief Kim tells Chief Han, who stands from his seat and walks towards the door, his hand on the doorknob.
“Don’t, she’s your case now. Have fun!” With that said, Chief Han cackles as he leaves the office, the room growing with tension as Namjoon looks back at Jeon.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t just fire you and end this for us both? Do you see what problems you cause? The only thing you have going for you is your loyalty, Jeon. What am I going to do with you?” Jeon listens as his Chief talks, but all he can focus on is the folder on the desk.
“Let me do the case,” Jeon speaks, baffling his superior officer.
“What?”
“Let me do the case,” Jeon says again, more firmly than before.
“Why would I let you do that? Didn’t you hear what Chief Han said? Are you that dumb?” Jeon takes Namjoon’s talking down, but he’s determined to prove his worth.
“I can do it, let me. Keep your more competent detectives here and send me out.”
Chief Kim takes a moment to consider it, weighing out the pros and cons. He’d be able to keep his best detectives on the force while getting Jeon out of his hair for a while.
“You don’t even know the case, you’ll need to be debriefed,”. Chief Kim says trying to give Jeon an out, but he just nods in understanding.
“Okay then, get out of my sight. Take the folder with you and I’ll get you debriefed in the morning. I don’t want to see you in that ugly dress in my office again,” Chief Kim scoffs looking at the ugly green dress that somehow flatters Jeon’s body, anyway.
Jeon stands from his seat, gaining his balance on his high heels before taking the folder off his commander’s desk. His earrings dangle side to side as he straightens up and heads to the door, knowing the whole precinct will see him walking to the locker room to change.
He’s been humiliated enough for one day. As his hand reaches for the doorknob, he hears Chief Kim one last time, “This is your last chance, Jeon.”
The next morning, Jeon shows up at the precinct, his heart sinking when he walks past Min’s empty desk on the way to Chief Kim’s office. With a hesitant knock on the door, Jeon lets himself into his chief’s office, greeting him as he takes a seat.
The previous night he had gone over the contents of the folder he had taken home. Most of it was information about the daughter of a retired police chief named Y/n. She was a junior at the local university, majoring in education with a minor in psychology. Jungkook didn’t understand why she needed a bodyguard in the first place, but he was assuming the debriefing would fill in the rest of the details.
“Nice of you to join us,” Chief Kim gets detective Jeon as he apologizes for being a minute late. Chief Kim is itching to fire him on the spot, but he resists the urge as he allows his subordinate to take over. The projector displays a slideshow for detective Jeon, showing him a picture of his assignment. He is to go undercover as her bodyguard to keep her safe, but also to gather information on her father.
“Isn’t her father Chief Y/L/N? Why do we need to gather information on him?” Jeon asks confused as his hand continues to move across his yellow notepad. Chief Kim sighs heavily, a large hand running through his hair as he looks at Jungkook.
“We need to find out whom is after his daughter and why. There’s no reason for her to have a member of the police force as her bodyguard unless there’s something sketchy going on. The files indicate nothing more than information on her and to be honest, all this information could be found on her social media making it useless. I’m counting on you to solve this or you’re off the force for good. Am I understood, Jeon?”
“Clearly,” Jungkook mumbles as he rises from his seat, taking his notebook with him as he leaves the office to go down the hall to meet his undercover unit.
“Nice to see you again, Jeon,” he’s greeted by the man in charge, none other than Park Jimin.
“I thought you transferred to another district?” Jeon questions as he takes a seat on the spare desk chair, rolling it over to Jimin’s side to look at the laptop that sat on his desk.
“No, I tried though, but it didn’t work out. Let’s talk about your case. The danger level seems rather low, but with these things you can never be too sure. We’ll be sending another officer in with you to pose as your dorm mate for backup,” Jungkook nods, wondering who will get chosen as his backup.
“You will report to me to ensure your safety. I will give you an alias along with a school schedule mirroring Y/n’s. We want you to befriend her to keep her close, but she knows how to weed out her bodyguards, which is why we are trying this alternative approach. If you need to disclose your true identity, do so only if it is your last resort. Let’s try to go about this mission with everyone unharmed,” Jimin explains as he types something on the laptop before the printer next to his desk pops out a simple white sheet with the name of the university on the header. Jungkook looks over his schedule, not enthused to be going back to college, but he knows it beats standing at the unemployment line.
© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.
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Brand New Animal (BNA) Oneshot: Nighttime Comforts
*points at Shirou and Michiru*
You see this? You see this found family dynamic? I crave fluff for it.
In other words, I’ve found another fandom I’ve fallen into! Also I apologize in advance if Shirou or Michiru’s characters aren’t 100% accurate. I did my best and rewatched some episodes but I’m not sure I fully got their dynamic down.
Word count: 2494
Summary: For as ready as Michiru was to move to Anima City and find a way to fix herself, she was in no way prepared to deal with how isolated she felt in this new place, especially at night.
Even with the faint ambiance of Anima City drifting in through the somewhat open window, Michiru was keenly aware of how oppressively silent the night felt. She was currently sprawled out on her back, eyes focused on the ceiling as she desperately tried to fall asleep. For as exhausting as her days had been, this was not the first time that Michiru had experienced this kind of insomnia.
The worries that filled her mind, both about her condition and what continuing to stay in this city would look like. Who knew what struggles she might face due to how she looked?
Michiru sighed and curled up, pressing her face against her pillow as she continued to think. She knew she was lucky to have a place to stay, to have met Gem and Melissa, and even Shirou despite how apathetic and detached the wolf beastman tended to be. They had helped her, been nice to her, but…
She tightly gripped the pillow, squeezing her eyes shut as she did her best to breathe through the wave of despair. This was not something new, this feeling of loneliness and isolation. It was what she had felt after changing into… this.
Into a beastman.
What was new was that she had achieved her goals, in a way. She had managed to reach Anima City and would, hopefully, uncover a way to fix what had been done to her. All things considered she should have been happy with this development, but for some reason she was just as sad as before.
If not more so because…
She was alone. She was alone and had to depend on beastman that she barely knew and anything could happen to her and-
Michiru hiccupped softly.
She missed her parents. She missed being able to go to school, she missed her sports, and-
She missed Nazuna.
It was stupid, so, so stupid to be this upset, especially after everything she had been through. She had already been sad about her transformation, she had already said her goodbyes to her parents, even if she had only left a letter. She had put all of that behind her and moved forward so she could fix her life!
She hated how weak feeling sad made her feel, hated how lonely she felt in this strange place. When the sun was up and the lights were bright, it was easy to forget the feelings that lurked in the back of her mind and throw herself into the activities of the day, working with Shirou and exploring some of the city, but when she was alone…
Well, currently it felt like she was always alone in a way.
No one understood what she had been going through, the struggle of trying to figure out where she fit in, how to fit in. Dealing with the beastman around her was challenging, and she felt so far from her previously human state.
Michiru was stuck somewhere in between.
Despite having a plan, she still felt lost and honestly had no clue what to do. To accept being like… this, or to fight even if her recovery seemed hopeless.
These dark thoughts always snuck up on her in the middle of the night, either invading her sleeping mind and causing her to dream of horrible things or forcing her to stay awake as she contemplated everything.
She knew it was not healthy to stay awake like this or to allow these thoughts to consume her. She had been able to push them aside in the past, and yet…
It felt like such a struggle when she was like this, like it was an impossible task to try and ignore the worry and anxiety that clouded her mind.
Even her strongest trait, her determined nature, could be swayed by these moments of despair and hopelessness.
She slowly exhaled, doing her best to let go of her pillow. After staying like this and just breathing, doing her best to calm herself down, she rolled over and continued looking back up at the ceiling.
A tear slowly rolled down her face, and she did not bother to wipe it off.
She lifted a hand into the air, staring at the limb and letting out a bitter chuckle. To be fair, she was a freak among beastman from the look of it. The weird stretching her arms had done was… unnatural.
She was unnatural.
She did not know what to do.
Her face twitched, a grimace taking over it as her arm dropped and she sat up. Hands gripping the mattress, she held this position for a couple seconds before slowly pushing herself upright, standing on shaky legs, and stumbling towards the window. When she was close enough, she shoved it so it was fully open, letting in the nighttime air.
Michiru sighed as she leaned against the windowsill. While the cool wind did help her calm down, gave her something to focus on, it only reminded her of the tears that were still somewhat staining her face.
She sniffled again and did her best to wipe them off, so caught up in her sorrows that she did not notice that she now had company. It was only when her hands lowered, face drier, that she realized who had joined her.
“Michiru.”
“Shirou!” She squawked in surprise, practically sounding like a bird as her head snapped to the side, eyes fixating on the man who was standing on the rooftop not too far away.
Who had apparently been standing on the rooftop for who knows how long.
The beastman was silent as he continued looking the tanuki over, as though he was searching for something. As the silence dragged on, Michiru was quick to voice her questions.
“What’re you still doing up? Why’re you on the roof? Did something happen? Is there-”
While the rapid-fire questions might have been somewhat annoying to Shirou under normal circumstances, he was far more focused on something else at the moment. The thing that had woken him up from his fitful rest.
The salty smell of tears.
He waited for Michiru to finish her rambling; eyes narrowed in a contemplative manner. As she finally fell silent, voice growing quieter and, strangely, losing the confidence that it typically radiated, Shirou spoke up.
“Why were you crying earlier?”
Wrong move.
Michiru was immediately on the defensive as she gawked at him, completely taken aback by his question, before slamming her hands down on the windowsill and glaring at the beastman.
“Hey! Who asks a question like that?! You don’t just-ask someone something like that! Or assume that kinda stuff! It’s rude, and-”
Shirou just continued to stare impassively, waiting for the tanuki to finish what in his mind was nothing more than a tantrum. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to get used to these outrageous shouting fits.
“Besides,” Michiru continued, crossing her arms and looking off to the side in annoyance. “What makes you think I was crying, huh?! What gave you that idea?!”
He squinted. Had she forgotten already…?
Fortunately, his clearly judgemental silence was enough to remind her of one key detail she had forgotten about him in her panic.
His sense of smell.
It was at that moment that she knew the game was over in a sense. He knew she was sad, could probably still tell based on the tears that had been staining the fur on her face, and it made her feel… ashamed.
She knew why she was sad, but at the same time she felt confused about it. Confused, and uncertain if she even had a right to be sad. It all felt so stupidly childish compared to all the things that had happened, how she had somewhat accepted her state of being a beastman.
… But at the same time, it was her identity. The thing that made her, her. And her place in the world that had been thrown into turmoil.
She was stronger than this, better than this, and yet…
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Michiru finally mumbled, not wanting to get into the mess that was her emotions. Her head dropped as she turned her attention towards the ground in order to avoid, what she assumed to be, his judgemental gaze. “It’s not important.”
Shirou could easily see that was a lie, and she knew he was smart enough to realize such a thing.
Please, don’t let him ask-
“Alright.”
She blinked in surprise and looked up at the beastman. “Wha-really? You’re not gonna…”
“No.” He shook his head. He did not see any point in continuing the topic, knowing it would only upset her further. At this point he had only one goal in mind.
Get her to rest so he did not have to deal with a sleep deprived Michiru in the morning.
Now it was time to work towards that goal.
Without warning, he crouched down and started to make his way through the window. Michiru quickly backed up, confused as to what he was doing, and she watched as he jumped down and landed beside her.
Her confusion continued to grow as she watched Shirou walk over to her bed, briefly looking it over before eventually taking a seat on it. He shuffled back so he could lean against the wall and then gestured for her to join him.
Um, what?
Uncertain as to what exactly he wanted, or what he was planning, she hesitantly made her way over to him. She repeated the process of sitting down and shuffling back so she was beside him.
It was kind of weird how quiet there were both being at this point. Well, Michiru’s silence was strange, but she honestly did not know what to say at the moment, and she was still confused as to what Shirou was doing-
She was snapped out of her thoughts when an arm landed on her shoulder, gently tugging her towards the beastman. Her eyes widened as she leaned against Shirou, stunned by this development. She remained tense and uncertain for a moment until the warmth of the body next to her began to spread to her.
Kind of like a heater.
Michiru let out a soft sigh as she slowly relaxed. Shirou was… surprisingly comfortable, soft even. Of course, there was a part of her that quietly pointed out how embarrassing this was, her essentially cuddling him, but the voice was quickly silenced.
Shirou had promised to protect her, help her get situated in Anima City, and this was just another way of doing that.
And it was something she could potentially use to embarrass him in the future…
As if sensing her mischievous train of thought, the beastman reached out and gently flicked the side of her head. She yelped and quickly covered the spot before looking up at him. “Hey! What was that for?!”
“Stop thinking so much and get some rest. You’re going to need it.” He passively replied. “We’ve got work to do tomorrow.”
That’s right, work. Investigations into what had happened to her and the anti-beastman that were causing chaos throughout the city.
Something she could focus on, ground herself with.
Michiru shook her head in an attempt to disperse any lingering thoughts and leaned against Shirou, one of her hands unconsciously reaching up and holding onto his trench coat. She let out a yawn as she felt her eyes slowly begin to shut.
“Thank you…”
Though the words were slurred due to tanuki’s exhaustion, Shirou heard them loud and clear. He was still somewhat facing away from her, looking out of the window, but he did reach over and gently ruffled her hair.
Michiru let out an annoyed noise and pressed her head against his side, causing an unseen smile to appear on Shirou’s face before quickly vanishing. Slowly, her breathing evened out and the lingering tension in her form vanished.
It was at this moment that the beastman sighed in relief, quietly happy to see that his efforts had not been in vain. Now all he had to do was figure out how to escape her clutches…
Hours later, as the sun rose and Gem began to crow, Michiru woke up. She immediately noticed that Shirou had left at some point, leaving her all alone. Alone, except for the trench coat that had been placed over her while she slept.
Shirou...
She sat up and, after a moment of hesitation, she gently picked up the article of clothing and looked it over.
It still felt warm.
A smile crossed her face as she flopped back over onto her side, flicking the trench coat out so it was resting overtop of her once more. As she pressed the side of her face back into her pillow, eyes slowly shutting as she settled down once again, the warmth radiated by Shirou’s trench coat soothing her.
Helping her feel less alone.
Omake:
Shirou grumbled and muttered to himself as he struggled to break free of Michiru’s clutches. She just… refused to let go of his trench coat no matter what he did. Granted, he had done much and had only tried to gently pry her hands off the item, not wanting to risk accidentally hurting her.
It was annoying to deal with, but it was also… sad to see her clinging to him like this in her sleep. He knew she had been struggling to figure things out about herself, and he knew for a fact he would never truly be able to comprehend the strife she was going through, but at the same time he did know that level of anxiety and fear.
The fear of being changed, being treated as an outsider…
A sleepy noise from Michiru broke him out of his thoughts, and he looked down just in time to see her hug one of his arms as she pressed her face into his shoulder.
How could such a sleeping position be comfortable, he wondered to himself as he got to work on his next plan of escape. It seemed like sacrifices needed to be made, and in this case that sacrifice would have to be his trench coat. He could part with it for now.
After some calculated squirming and shifting, he was able to loosen her grip on his arm enough to slide it free, allowing her to hug the empty sleeve in her clutches. From there, Shirou slowly scooted away from the sleeping tanuki.
Freedom had been achieved, but he was not done just yet.
He got off the bed and stood up before leaning forward and carefully moved Michiru around, pausing occasionally so he did not accidentally wake her up. When he was finished with this task, she was lying down on her back, the trench coat covering her.
That would do.
Now certain that Michiru would be fine for the rest of the night, Shirou nodded to himself and left.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The found family dynamic is my jam if you couldn’t tell and I intend to write as much as I can before my muse dies while balancing all of my other active WIPs as best I can.
I hope you all enjoyed reading!
- ImmortalCoelacanth
#my story#fanfiction#brand new animal#bna#michiru kagemori#shirou ogami#fluff#found family dynamic#comfort#michiru has a mild crisis#but shirou helps#a trench coat is stolen
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So I found this absolute banger in my YouTube recommendations, " as the world caves in" by Matt Maltese, and since this is my life for now, I thought it would be kinda cool to write some angsty Nuclear Apocalypse!Haikyu headcanons for the ships. So this time I present fresh, spicy, radioactive trash.
Imagine they're just in school, all of the boys are just going about their days when the notification hits, this life will mean nothing in about eight minutes.
Daichi and Suga
Daichi is the one who cries surprisingly. Panicked, hot tears as he looks frantically through the crowded halls, when they find each other, Suga merely gives him a watery smile, the acceptance in his eyes making Daichi sob harder. They go to the club room, because they know they won't have time to make it home, and there they lay, wrapped around each other, as Suga traces patterns on Daichi's back
Asahi and Noya
Noya's first thought is actually of Asahi, he's up and out of his seat before anyone else even thinks to move, he finds Asahi in the closet where they fought that one time, and he can honestly say he doesn't mind dying if it means he can catch Asahi's glass heart one last time. So he's shocked when Asahi catches his too, when the older boy reaches his warm hand up and wipes away Noya's tears instead of his own. He finds himself sobbing then, because he thinks he could've loved Asahi for a long time, if he'd ever been given the chance.
Tanaka and Ennoshita
Ennoshita bumps into Tanaka on his way to find a hiding place. It's not necessarily anything but kindness when Tanaka grabs his hand, and they silently agree to die together so they don't have to do it alone. They lay under some desks in the back of an abandoned classroom, and Tanaka talks about his child hood and Saeko, and Noya all while Ennoshita rubs circles on Tanaka's open palm. This isn't a bad way to die at all, Tanaka finds himself thinking when he finally grows quiet enough to really look at Ennoshita.
Tsukishima and Yamaguchi
They were in the same class when the notification sounded, and while everyone ran, they stayed seated. Kei thought vaguely of Akiteru, but he had the one person he really needed right in the same room. The feeling was clearly mutual, the two didn't say a word, they simply laced their fingers together and waited for the world to end like they did everything else, together. It was all very calm until Yamaguchi heard sniveling from next to him, and turned to see a distraught Kei. Kei wrapped his long arms and only managed to get two words out before the world imploded around them, "Gomen, Tadashi."
Kageyama and Hinata
Hinata is a mess, of epic proportions, and normally Kageyama would tell him to stop carrying on, but he can't, because Shoyou has every right to be a mess. He should be too. But he can't be, because he needs to keep it together, for Hinata. Hinata, who is currently screaming about Natsu and his mother, about how he can't get to them. This goes beyond volleyball, his wails shake Tobio to his core because they are filled with not just soul bending grief, but guilt and frustration, as well. Finally, out of a love he hadn't realized yet, he pulled his tiny giant into his lap and held him close to his chest while he shook. "R-Remember what I said, Shou? With me you are invincible. And you're with me, so everything will be okay." They both know he's lying, but it quiets Hinata down, and they cling to each other until the world ends, and even after that.
Yachi and Kiyoko
Yachi almost dies in the hallway, trampled by her panicked peers, when Kiyoko pulls her up, and they sit on the bench in the desolate gym, Yachi playing with Kiyoko's hair while Kiyoko swipes at Yachi's bloody nose. Yachi kisses her gently on the lips, because she has bigger things than rejection to fear in the last few minutes of her life. Kiyoko merely smiles and pulls the girl in again, and that's the best way to die, they're sure of it.
Kunimi and Kindaichi
Kindaichi has never seen Kunimi show any sort of emotion off the court, so he immediately forgets his own tears when he notices the seemingly apathetic boy sobbing in the desk next to him. Great, silent sobs escape Kunimi despite his best efforts and Kindaichi's stupid confused expression only seems to make it worse until he musters up all of his courage and decides not to die alone, and grabs Kunimi's hand. Kunimi then shocks both of them as he leans his head into Kindaichi's chest, after a moment, Kindaichi wraps his arms around Kunimi, and they think about all of the things that could've happened, if only this one massive thing had never happened.
Yahab and Kyoutani
Yahaba ran to the Aoba Johsai gym for some odd form of shelter originally, but nearly turned away the moment he saw Kyoutani punching the walls, enduring angry sobs. But the world was ending, and Yahaba was too afraid of other things to be afraid of Kyoutani, so he grabbed Kyoutani's wrist, and pulled his bloodied fist closer to his own mouth, and pressed a soft kiss to the Mad Dog's knuckles. They shared a meaningful look and then simply sat together, fingers interlocked, and tears flowing freely.
Iwaizumi and Oikawa
They're in the same class as well, Oikawa is talking with some of his admirers, but when the alarm sounds, all he sees then is Iwaizumi. That's how it was always going to be with them, in the end, they both only really saw each other. Then Oikawa thought of Takeru, dying with a bunch of strangers in a little classroom, and promptly threw up, all over his desk. The girls who hadn't already run were certainly on their way out now as Iwa pulled Oikawa into his arms. He let's out a watery chuckle as he wipes Oikawa's normally perfect face and says, "You know I would've married you someday, right? That I would've spent my life giving you my everything?" Oikawa cries then, and together they mourn the loss of the future they would've had and their story ends the way it started, with each other.
Kuroo and Kenma
Kuroo finds Kenma, wide eyed and shivering in a corner of the Nekoma hallway, he pulls his ingenious setter away from the crowd and outside onto steps they had sat on many times together. He tucks Kenma's hair behind his ear and freezes in shock when the small boy simply grabs Kuroo and pulls him into a melancholic kiss. " I just thought you should know." Tears are rolling down Kenma's cheeks now and Kuroo is sobbing because not only did Kenma just kiss him, but he'd never have time to do it nearly as much as he wanted to. Making the best of the worst, Kuroo leaned in again, he wouldn't let Kenma die feeling anything but loved.
Lev and Yaku
The giant Russian didn't mean to find Yaku, it just sort of happened, and then he went into protector mode (even though Yaku could take care of himself just fine, thank you very much) and picked Yaku right up, running through the people in the hallway with ease while Yaku screamed in his arms. Lev stops when they reach the Nekoma locker rooms, and the moment his feet touch the ground, Yaku is screaming at Lev as Lev slides down the lockers and onto the floor, tears rolling down his cheeks. Yaku is still yelling when Lev interrupts him with a sharp "I love you", that shuts the Libero right up. After a moment he simply mumbles " alright then" and proceeds to climb right into Lev's lap. They sit like that, Yaku's face hidden in Lev's neck and Lev's arms wrapped around Yaku's waist, right until the world ends. Yaku pauses at the last second to whisper something that sounded suspiciously like "I love you too" in Lev's ear.
Bokuto and Akaashi
Bokuto F R E A K S out, and Akaashi can't really explain it, but it's like he can feel Bokuto freaking out, like he can feel Bokuto needing him. He finds the Ace curled up in the corner of the boys bathroom, and pulls him into his arms, laying on the filthy floor with the broken boy he had come to love so much. Bokuto kisses him softly, and it tastes like salt because Bokuto isn't the only one crying. Akaashi draws soft circle patterns on Bokuto's arms while Bokuto runs his fingers through Akaashi's hair. They're calm now that they know they'll go together.
Ushijima and Tendo
Tendo fully expects to go alone, whether it was in eight minutes or eight years he just assumed he would endure whatever happened to him by himself. What he doesn't expect is Ushijima asking him oh so politely if he would grant him the honor of dying with him. Well with a stunning proposal like that, how could he do anything but pull Ushijima into his hiding place with him? They simply talk in hushed tones about silly things until the last few minutes when Tendo leans over and presses a gentle kiss to Ushijima's forehead. They hug then, and just like that, Tendo was happy, really happy, for the first-and last- time in his life.
#daisuga#haikyuu yamaguchi#haikyuu!!#hq oikawa#iwaioi#iwaizumi x oikawa#kagehina#asanoya#daichi x sugawara#haikyuu noya#hq tendou#hq ushijima#tobio chan#hq tobio#oikawa tōru#oikawa tooru#levyaku#kyouhaba#kyoutani kentarou#hq yahaba#azumane asahi#haikyuu nishinoya#sugawara koushi#hq sugawara#sugawara kōshi#daichi#kuroo tetsurō#kuroken#kenma
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BNHA AU Ideas: Alleycat
Also on AO3!
TL;DR:
The story of the Erasure villain: Alley Cat and his heroic kittens. Aizawa, a rather nomadic villain, accidentally acquires two teenagers and a four-year-old. It's not the most conventional family, but it'll do.
villain aizawa: hes incredibly brutal and efficient, kind of an antihero type. he shuts down some things the heroes dont see, patrols the sketchy areas, looks out for children
he kinda,,, accidentally adopted some children
shinsou and izuku were runaways from a terrible foster home that tracked down the 'villain' alleycat and basically said
"are we worth anything to anyone?" and aizawa sees these kids hurt by heroics and takes them under his wing
eri is a kid izuku stumbled upon while out with shinsou before they met aizawa, and izuku basically adopted her straight out, came back to shinsou like "hi we have a little sister now" they are like 12, eri is 4
so aizawa accidentally gets 2 teens and a lil kid and he finds out they lowkey wanna be villains like him bc they wanna help and heroes dont help people like them. aizawa's heart breaks bc he doesn't want these kids to have the life he's had, so he promises to train hitoshi and izuku only if they try for the hero course
they agree. a villain begins to train heroes to enter the very thing that hurt them, with hopes of changing it from the inside out
ok also: in this au whatever horrible thing happened to shirakumo,,,, didnt. and he's 1A's homeroom teacher. hes bright, bubbly and cheerful, with the same expulsion rate aizawa has
so, shirakumo's hero name is cloud nine, hizashi's is feedback, not present mic. they both think aizawa is dead, and separately have to deal with the villain 'alleycat' as his territory intersects w ua's zone
aizawa, as alleycat, is a lot gentler to shirakumo and hizashi, more polite when speaking to them, less brutal with his takedowns. hizashi notices, but says nothing
hitoshi and izuku, with their baby sister eri, end up living with aizawa, training to be heroes to improve them fucked up society that taught them they were worthless in the first place
he takes them on parkour routes in the early morning, teaches them how to disarm people with knives, to use an opponents size against them.
izuku hones his ability to analyse, hitoshi learns how to push peoples buttons. there is no such thing as a fair fight for them. they break each others noses, chip a tooth or two, get black eyes. there are no hard feelings, they are together through everything
the 4 of them live pretty rough, only on what aizawa can get as a villain/working day shifts in a dodgy bar. aizawa pretends to be their dad for anything legal, says they had two different mothers. it works, somehow.
Some minor cosmetic changes:
Izuku, Hitoshi and Eri all dye their hair black. It started as them quietly wanting to look like their ‘dad’ for sentimental reasons, but they quickly worked out that it made the lie a lot easier for others to swallow.
They all take the surname Aizawa
Eri’s hair is cut into a messy bob – she loves getting Izuku to give her pigtails with the little sparkly hair ties Shouta stole for her. Izuku’s hair is shorter at the back and longer at the front, obscuring his eyes a bit. Hitoshi’s hair is shoulder length and growing, he ties it back in a low bun.
All three of the kids have scars. Eri’s are like canon but a less extreme because her quirk only just showed up. Izuku and Hitoshi have some from bullies, horrible foster parents and reckless sparing. Izuku has a few more little ones because he developed his not-dad’s love of cats and is unafraid of getting bitten – on top of his lack of self-preservation.
they go to aldera middle school, bakugo is still a little shit. to be honest, izuku hates it the most when bakugo burns his uniform - they cant afford to buy extra. there have been a few weeks hes just had to where shinsou's spare and roll the sleeves up
izuku and shinsou have a bit of a spat the afternoon of the sludge villain. it's nothing either of them remembers in a weeks time, but it means shinsou leaves school first, without izuku
bakugo corners him, notebook, allmight, etc
izuku has to ask
all might says no
izuku crumbles, such a dramatic shift from the calm but nice boy he'd been before. you can see the moment his heart breaks. all might feels terrible, but izuku has jumped down the fire escape before he can say anything.
to be honest, izuku is moments away from a full-fledged breakdown. He shoots shinsou a quick text about the villain, but pauses when he hears explosions. He knows the chances its Katsuki are tiny but he’s never been a lucky guy, so he runs towards them
basically the rest of the episode plays out like canon, izuku goes home and meets with his whole ass family panicking because he sent a vague text about a villain then was totally AWOL for 2 hours
hitoshi hugs him really tight while aizawa mumbles something about a tracking chip.
Izuku tells hitoshi about all might, but just tells aizawa vaguely that hes getting a quirk, no he isn’t in any danger, yes he’ll be safe, no he can’t tell you how.
Izuku and Hitoshi both pass the entrance exam with a mix of hero and villain points.
Izuku still doesn’t his whole bone breaky routine but he also manages to take out a few robots by himself before that. He ends up with the highest score.
Hitoshi takes out a few more robots but spends a fair bit of time pushing people out of the way of robots, yelling at people to be more careful about the others around them, and controlling people to get them out of the way of debris. He gets into the top 10.
Nezu is very very interested in the two ‘brothers’ with very different quirks that both did so well. He resolves to keep and eye on them.
Shirakumo is a riot as a teacher but boy is he stressful to be in a class with. The first insult out of Bakugo’s mouth and hes kicked him out of his class, telling him to try class B or get out of the school. (Blood King takes him. Bakugo is a little less horrible to izuku, at least where others can see)
Izukus having a quiet panic attack because Bakugo is going to kill him, and Hitoshi is caught between respecting the balls on their teacher and being pissed at the guy for putting izuku in a terrible position.
No quirk test, they do actually go see the opening ceremony. Hizashi and Shirakumo chat in sign while the principal’s speech drags on. Hitoshi and Izuku watch on, trying not to laugh when they start signing that they want to go to sleep.
Then they do the quirk test bc shirakumo’s a bastard. They end the day with Bakugo kicked out and Hagekure hanging onto her place by a thread. Izuku and Hitoshi come 4th and 5th respectively, despite not being able to use their quirks in the test. Shirakumo is interested.
Skipping to the interesting bits:
The USJ is just as terrible as canon, with the added fact that some of the thugs totally recognise izuku and hitoshi. Izuku works out how to use one for all at 1% during the attack. Hitoshi ends up with a scar on his eyebrow from a person with a claw quirk, Izuku gets a broken arm. Hitoshi sees all might in his skinny form for the first time and is suitably surprized
The sports festival goes a lot like canon in the first round, the second round features a team-up of just Hitoshi as the horse and Izuku as the rider bc they are so used to working with each other they felt it’d be more trouble to have extra team members. They arent exactly wrong and that round ends with them still in control of the 1’000’000 points band – along with a fair few teams just sitting on the sidelines with no idea how they got there.
Tournament round has izuku fighting Todoroki in the second round like canon, but in this universe, he wins (after helping him because whats izuku without a saviour complex). Hitoshi beats Tokoyami and Sero, but loses to Bakugo. The final round is Izuku vs Bakugo, they tie.
The stain arc is a riot. Izuku is interning w Gran, Hitoshi is with Nighteye who happens to be looking for ‘Alley Cat’. Hitoshi is so done with this.
Izuku finds Iida about to be attacked by stain and swoops in. Stain recognises him instantly
“Oh, you’re one of the cat’s kids, aren’t you? Let me deal with this fake hero and you can show me what your dad's taught you.”
Iida is confused – resolves to ask about it later
“You step away from him.”
“What?”
“I said. Step away from Iida. He’s – We’re going to be heroes. We’re both going to be heroes and I won’t let you hurt him!”
Stain pauses, then smiles.
“Lets see if the apple falls far from the tree, hm?” And he launches himself at Izuku
Izuku can dodge with the best of them, but he can’t get close enough to hit stain while protecting Iida. He manages to escape paralysis, but by the time Todoroki arrives stain has barely taken damage.
Todoroki isn’t the only person that responded to that warning. 1 city over, Hitoshi is franticly begging Nighteye to do something, because his brother is in danger. Nighteye is shocked at the fear in the previously apathetic child’s voice. He alerts heroes in the area, and makes his way over with a nervous Hitoshi in tow. On the other end of the city, where he’d been trying to keep an ear out for his kids, Aizawa gets the text and his heart drops. He begins running over.
Stain is taken out before any more help arrives. Without ropes, Todoroki freezes him solid in a block of ice. Endeavour arrives, as does Nighteye with a panicked Hitoshi. Aizawa arrives soon after, perched on a nearby rooftop, ready to whisk his kids away to safety should they need it.
The nomu swoops down, grabbing Izuku. Stain can’t help – trapped in his block of ice. Aizawa runs after Izuku. The nomu drops Izuku off at Shirgiraki’s feet, who is rather delighted to have the annoying boy from the USJ delivered to him out of the blue. He’s not, however, so happy with the knives he finds flying towards him. Kurogiri redirects them and the portal fades just in time for them to come face to face with the villain ‘Alley Cat”
“Well that was a cheap shot Alley Cat, what crawled up your ass and died?”
Aizawa places himself in front of Izuku, teeth bared. Izuku is clutching the leg of his costume. “Don’t hurt him and you won't lose a hand.” Kurogiri goes to attack, but Shigiraki waves him off, letting Aizawa take back Izuku.
“Sir?”
“Don’t you see? There are villains in the hero course. I smell a side quest, don’t you? We might even get some new party members out of it.
#bnha#bnha au#alleycat au#dadzawa#aizawa shouta#eraserhead#midoriya izuku#shinsou hitoshi#eri#bnha eri#Midoriya#shinsou#izuku#shirakumo oboro#shirakumo#present mic#yamada hizashi
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the neon lights circling around the ceiling over the bed give everything a strange, pink hue. but he likes it. the entire room is meant to convey nothing but comfort and sensuality. more pillows than one could need are neatly stacked against the headboard, the rug beneath his bare feet is so plush it feels like he could sink into it. emil swears he has never stood inside somewhere so soft.
“ you’re distracted. ”
the woman’s voice makes emil lift his head to meet her inquiring gaze. she pauses in the doorway of the bathroom, head tilted and eyes raking over him in an overly observant manner before she walks closer. it isn’t like this is his first time doing this, but it’s been a while. either way, he always feels nervous meeting escorts for the first time. he knows he wouldn’t even be here in the first place if she didn’t find him an appealing client, but he still always has that anxious need to please. “ sorry i... ” she doesn’t need to hear about his day “ i was just admiring the lights. ”
“ oh? i can change the color. some men prefer something more...masculine i suppose, ” black curls fall over lina’s shoulder when she tilts her head back to glance at the lights in question.
“ no– i like it, ” reassurance comes quietly as his gaze settles on his companion. “ it’s nice, ” he murmurs when her eyes meet his. they still hold something inquisitive in them and it feels like a question when her hand raises to his chest. her fingers are gentle but he can still feel the warmth beneath the fabric of his shirt. such a simple touch but it makes his breathing grow a little more shallow. he thinks maybe he was starting to forget what it feels like for someone’s hands to not feel so cold and apathetic when they touch him.
“ you’re one of those contractors, right? ” her hand glides lower over his abdomen until her fingers curl into the hem of his shirt. she barely waits for him to nod before she speaks again “ i recognized the credit code. but i would’ve been able to tell anyway. ” lina’s free hand lifts to his face and it makes him grow more still than he already is, finger lightly runs beneath his eye before touching the scar that rests on his cheek. “ you have that look in your eyes. ”
lids fall shut, almost on instinct, and his face tilts into her hand. a slow inhale is drawn and he swears he could really just stand there like that the entire night and be more than okay with it. it could be just enough to have someone look at him, see him and touch him. remind him he’s capable of feeling something good. but that’s not exactly what they’re here for and he’s reminded of that when her touch withdraws so she can finally pull his shirt away. eyes blink back open and he shifts to help rid himself of the article. her fingers explore his skin the moment it’s exposed, lingering on scars and markings. he can feel the way she’s drawn to it and it makes him wonder if it’s why she chose his application. maybe she likes people like him. soldiers. agents.
dangerous men with sadness in their eyes.
the moment her mouth is on his he knows it’s true. but he doesn’t mind it. it’s just nice to be wanted. emil leans down further towards her and lifts a hand to cup her jaw, his other going to the fastening of her robe. she tastes sweet. and its in a way that would seem she put something on her lips to make it so, but he finds he likes that too. it’s quiet until they’re both shed of clothing. she looks up at him again then with that same curiosity, her fingers lightly trailing against his hips. “ what are you here for, emil? you don’t have to be so quiet. you can tell me what you want...i can use my mouth— ” she emphasizes the sentiment by pressing her lips to his clavicle, tongue brushing against his skin in a way that causes him to draw in a sharp breath. “ or my hands... ” she palms against his length then while she seeks out his gaze once more.
he has to take a moment to ground himself. it’s always so overwhelming for him to be touched in anyway, but especially with intimacy. there’s an intensity that is difficult to explain. but it’s why he came here. he just wants to drown everything out. emil places a hand over one of her own, stilling lina’s movement as his other goes to her jaw. “ i want to feel you, ” he murmurs quietly. a glance is cast towards the bed and it prompts her to curl her fingers around his hand, tugging him to follow her towards it. when she settles on the mattress, she keeps a hold of his hand and guides it to her chest. he doesn’t need further prompting than that, however. his knees press into the duvet as he leans over her, trailing his fingers over her breasts and then up to the base of her throat. her skin is soft. just like everything else here.
emil settles on the mattress, straddling the woman as he explores her body. his hands roam freely along her stomach, over her nipples, across her shoulders, caressing the plump curve of her hips. he’s searching for memories. and it doesn’t take long for one to find him. eyes widen a little, pupils unfocused and while his hands continue to run along her skin his mind is transported. his body is no longer his. instead it’s her walls he feels clenching around someone else, fingernails dig into the man’s chest and rake down. the sound he makes produces a satisfied smile to lina’s lips, one which is broken by a moan when his cock thrusts into her with more ferocity. she’s close. one of her hands glides between her thighs to stroke her clit and it makes the heat in her gut build. she clenches her walls around the man again and moves her other hand to his hair, fingers curling as she tugs him to her mouth.
“ where did you go? ”
emil blinks and his eyes refocus on lina. her hand is on his cheek, thumb brushing over his mouth “ you look so far away. ” he swallows and wonders if there will ever be a day where he could truthfully answer that question. instead he leans forward and presses his lips to hers. it’s a gentle kiss, but there is still hunger in it. he wants to make her feel good. he wants his hands to bring pleasure, not pain. he needs his fingers to be wetted by her rather than by blood. there’s almost a desperation to it when his mouth breaks away from lina’s so he can kiss down along her neck, over her chest and stomach until he’s between her thighs.
he glances up towards her to make sure this is okay, but given the look in her eyes and the excited energy he can feel rolling off of her, it’s more than just okay. it’s all he needs to urge him forward. he presses a kiss against her pubic bone first, then brushes his lips against her clit. finally, he swipes his tongue out to taste her. she responds immediately; hips twitch and a breath is drawn in. emil licks around her bud and her hands quickly find purchase in his hair. “ god— ” she seems to be muttering it to herself more than him. she’s saying something else but he doesn’t quite hear it. his mind is pulled away again while his mouth works over her cunt. conveniently, this time it’s a memory of her doing this exact thing. her tongue against a woman’s sex, her fingers curling inside her and pressing to her walls. the moans that fill the air around them is beyond blissful.
better. that’s where he goes when his eyes unfocus and he is no longer himself. somewhere better. to be someone else. to be someone good. to walk in a life that is about more than violence and greed.
#IDK WHO GONNA READ THIS BUT I DID IT ANYWAY#i've had this concept in my head for so long#i decided to stop being chicken and write it#〖 NSFW: DON’T FLAG ME DUMBLR 〗#〖 TANTALUS: THIS BODY IS A VESSEL TO FORGOTTEN LIVES 〗#my dumbass is incapable of not setting the scene thoroughly and so u get several paragraphs of build up before the naughty#it's just how it is#anyway here is ur reminder sex work is normalized and respected in my lore bc why tf not
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sethkate mini fic! Any of them lol, but if you need it narrowed down more 5,11,14, or 16?
There’s a good chance this is more pre-SethKate than full on romance, but here we go! XD
5. things you didn’t say at all/16. things you said with no space between us
Post-season 3. The “no space between us” us more metaphorical here than physical based largely on my own headcanons on what all Kate got through Amaru’s killing touch on others.
He finds her outside, sitting on the hood of one of the cars they’ve collected.
It’s too early to be morning, the eastern sky devoid of any color even as it slowly lightens. The time when Seth’s usually long gone to bed and left the remaining hours of night to his brother and the rest of the vampires. But Kate hasn’t quite adjusted to being back, being human, again. Up for too long before her body crashes, not yet able to recognize the signs of exhaustion until it’s too late.
“You just get up?” he says as he comes around the side of the car, desert dirt shifting under the slippers he stole from Richie in a steady crunch that marks his path.
She shifts slightly, glancing over her shoulder at him in a way that he can’t tell if it means he startled her or she already knew he was there, before she softly shakes her head.
He flicks his gaze over her, notes the soft sweep of shadows just starting to crawl beneath her eyes and the lack of tension in brow.
“Gonna be a hellava sunrise.” He doesn’t know why he says that, hip pressed against the edge closest to where she’s sitting, her legs pretzeled on the hood and elbows on her knees, like she’s thinking. Like she’s been here a while and he’s intruding on this bit of quiet she’s carved out for herself in the midst of their hectic lives.
Normally he’s good at this, knows how to fill the silence with long lines of bullshit, an outward distraction for the too crowded minds of those closest to him and a way to keep his own thoughts from spinning off when he needs them close. Can’t keep his mouth shut more often than not, landing his ass in hot water and coming out the other side bloody and bruised because he never learned when to bite his tongue and let shit slide. But the words he wants won’t come, crowding behind his teeth until he can’t distinguish one from the another but unable to be pushed out either. She’s got him all tangled up this morning, sitting on a dark car that looks too close to one from another life while wearing pale blue pajama pants and one of her brother’s band shirts, unnaturally red hair tugging around in her with ever shift of the wind.
There’s a twitch at the corner of her lips, soft and sweet and real, and something inside him hitches slightly.
“Is that why you’re up?” she asks, a tease just peeking out through her words. “To see the pretty sunrise.”
“Not a chance,” he shoots back, flashing his teeth on a mocking grin, body angling itself so he’s facing her more fully. “I’m heading off to bed, which is where all good little boys and girls should be right about now.”
He freezes, breath catching in his throat, the possible invitation in his words suddenly loud and clear to his ears as she looks at him, feeling all the more like a pre-pubescent kid caught trying to feel up a girl for the first time by the knowing glint in her eyes. It dies suddenly, the beginning of concern just starting to take its place before something worn and nearly apathetic takes its place.
“Doesn’t that mean you should be staying up,” she manages, voice light despite the slumping of her shoulders. His breath leaves him in a loose chuckle, half-disappointed and half-relieved even as something twists uncomfortably.
“You sayin’ I’m no good?” he murmurs, leaning forward even as his mind flips down a different path.
“You are who you are,” she says, a weight behind her words that has him straightening, studying her a moment in the growing light before looking away. The silences stretches, heavy with things he’s not sure he’s ready to face just yet. Those pieces of Amaru and the months Kate was away still sticking to the bits they’ve managed to scrounge together, stubborn in its refusal to stay dead and buried in the past. Reminiscent of when a different serpent queen played mind games with someone Seth cared for. But that was different too, feeling Richie slip through his fingers even as he never left Seth’s side, because for all that Kate is still finding herself once more, he doesn’t feel like she’s gone, like he’s lost her to some gate of hell and the wanna-be goddess trying to fuck the world.
“C’mon,” he grumbles, turning back to the warehouse turned makeshift home and the lure of a warm bed.
He doesn’t turn to see if she follows.
#this took longer than it should have#and is technically part of a much larger headcanon for post-series#sethkate#ficlet#fdtd#my writing
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i’ll be your eyes (you be my face)
‘cause darling i get scared for you, and i’m not busy anyway.
It’s unspoken, but Luke is pretty sure they’re trading off on who gets to have a breakdown every week. (Or, Luke and Ashton help each other. Heal each other. Same thing.)
TWs: depression, suicide ideation, general angst. you guys asked for it. title from the song anyway by noah kahan.
read it on ao3 here
~
It’s unspoken, but Luke is pretty sure they’re trading off on who gets to have a breakdown every week.
Last week it had been Ashton, and Luke thinks he did a decent job talking him down from it. He has some practice. Ashton’s always been — well, they’ve all been fragile, from the very start, but Ashton has always been the most obvious about it. Michael lashes out. Calum pulls himself inward. Luke keeps it quiet. But Ashton bleeds. Ashton leaves himself open and vulnerable, cries tear stains into the carpets and tour bus floors and hotel pillows. This is just the way things are. Ashton bleeds. He’s the only one who does.
This week, though, it’s Luke. Luke knows that because it’s a terrible day, and they’re sitting at dinner and Luke is staring at his plate, and Ashton’s just cracked a joke about something, and now Luke’s heart — his chest — everything’s wrong, and he wants to cry where he didn’t just a moment ago. He’s not hungry. Has he ever been hungry?
“Luke,” Ashton repeats, but Luke buries his face in his hands instead, elbows digging into the table. This is how it is. They do this over and over. It’s his turn to fucking lose it, isn’t it? He’s earned the right. “Luke. Are you — what can I do?”
Luke shakes his head. “Not hungry,” he says, and then without ceremony pushes his seat back and retreats to his room, shutting the door behind him.
He feels desperate and stretched thin and achy, feels like he’s been in panic mode for weeks and it’s starting to wear him out. Ashton let him move in to help, but Luke hasn’t really gotten better, has he? Still the same piece of shit he was before, rock-bottom with a pickaxe. He flops face-first into his pillow and hugs it tight. Maybe he’ll be able to hold his breath longer this time than the last. Maybe he’ll be able to hold his breath until he passes out. Maybe —
“Can I come in?”
Luke grunts, which means yes, in Luke-and-Ashton-living-together-speak. The door creaks.
“Can I sit?”
Another grunt. Luke hasn’t taken his face out of his pillow. He’s just beginning to feel lightheaded from it. Maybe this is the time it kills him.
It’s not what he wants, though. It’s not. Sometimes Luke thinks he’s just faking it until he makes it — over and over, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die. One day it will be true again. A hand settles delicately over the dip of his spine.
“Pick your head up, Luke.”
Luke doesn’t. His heart is beating faster now; he still hasn’t caught his breath, and now his chest is starting to squeeze, and maybe this really will be it.
“Luke. Stop it.” The hand moves to his shoulder, grips him tightly, forces Luke to turn onto his side, and Luke glares as he exhales.
“We said no more of that shit,” Ashton tells him. “Come on. Tell me what’s going on.”
“You already know what’s going on,” Luke mutters. “My brain is fucked up. That’s what.”
“How do you feel?” Ashton presses. “Did something happen that made you react like this?”
Of course nothing happened. That’s a stupid question. Ashton should know better. “Oh,” Luke says, “you mean other than the fact that there’s something wrong with my fucking brain? No, nothing.”
Ashton doesn’t say, there’s something wrong with mine, too. He doesn’t say, that’s why I’m here. Or even that’s why you’re here. He doesn’t remind Luke that the whole reason they moved in together was to help each other out. That wouldn’t really be true anyway, even though Ashton likes to say it is; the truth is that Luke is imposing on Ashton, and if Ashton weren’t so fucking lonely and broken, if Ashton weren’t just as bad as Luke if not worse, then he’d have never let Luke in. Because Luke is fucked up. There’s no doubt about it. And now Ashton is signed up to deal with it.
“Are you mad at me?” Ashton asks him. Luke stares.
“Of course I’m not fucking mad at you,” he says.
“Then stop taking it out on me,” Ashton says. “Talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling. We can get through this, you know. We have, and we’ll keep doing it. I know you can. Do you trust me?”
And Luke wants to tell him of course I trust you but that’s not the point, say trusting you isn’t going to fix me, say it’s not about trust. But Ashton’s expression is open, earnest, so deadly sincere.
“I trust you,” Luke says, like he’s said a hundred times before. “I feel like shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“Yeah,” Ashton says. “But it’s okay. I know you don’t mean it.” Luke wonders if Ashton really believes that, or if he’s just saying it. And if he means it, what would it take to convince him that Luke hates him? Maybe Ashton trusts Luke too much. Maybe he should say something about that, do something about it.
He remembers a soothing hand to Ashton’s face, a gentle kiss to his forehead while he’d cried about missing his siblings, stroking his hair until he’d fallen limp in Luke’s arms, mumbled words like it’s going to be okay and you’ll see them soon and I’m here, I’ve got you.
It’s symbiotic in a dangerous way, this precipice they’re balancing on. Just two batteries killing themselves to charge each other. But as long as they stay in this bubble, alone together, they’re effectively immortal. Like Prometheus, cursed to heal every morning only to be torn apart again every night. And around and around they go.
~
By all rights, it’s a good day. A fun day, actually. Luke teaches Ashton to play “She’s Kinda Hot,” and then Ashton goes and does the shopping and Luke cleans the kitchen before he comes back, because he’s just that nice. Ashton makes dinner. They eat. It’s fine. It’s good.
Ashton goes to bed earlier than Luke, always. He’s got a better grasp on what he needs to feel better. Physical health is the first step towards mental health. Ashton has it down to a science, literally, almost. He tries to push Luke, but Luke’s got far too many thoughts to shut up before one in the morning at the earliest, so he’s still awake at midnight after Ashton’s supposedly gone to bed.
He’s still up when he hears footsteps, and that means Ashton’s awake, possibly getting water or something. It’s not a concern. It shouldn’t be.
Then, “Yeah. I miss you, too.” And Luke feels a secondhand pang of hurt, this melancholy that surrounds Ashton whenever anyone mentions his family. It’s a sensitive topic for him more than most; to go from practically raising your siblings to never seeing them must feel like losing a limb, not that Luke would know. He stalls, listening for the sound of Ashton crying or even choking up. He knows his cues. “No, we’re fine,” Ashton carries on, the sound growing distant as Ashton moves further towards the kitchen. “It’s just weird, you know?”
Luke creeps towards his door, listening. “Mike, don’t,” Ashton finally says; Luke does a double-take. Michael? Clifford? Their bandmate and best friend? Okay. That makes sense. It can make sense. If Ashton’s going to be on the phone with anyone at midnight, anyway, it’ll be Michael. “Seriously, it’s so far away.” Pause. “Obviously I — Michael, it’s not worth it. You should spend time with your family. Plus you’d be leaving Cal all by himself and you know he doesn’t do well.” He laughs. “Look, I should sleep. Talk to you later, okay? No, we’ll talk about it later. Okay. Yeah, yeah. Love you. Bye.”
Luke counts under his breath. When he reaches ten he pushes the door open and slowly pads into the kitchen, where Ashton is nowhere to be found.
“Ash?”
“Yeah,” comes Ashton’s voice. Luke comes around the island, and Ashton has his back pressed against it, feet propped up and digging into the bottom drawer across from him. His elbows are resting on his knees, head hung low, fingers tightly woven into his hair. The picture of distress, of silent suffering.
“All right?” Luke asks, even though he’s obviously not. Then, in the interest of transparency, he adds, “I heard you talking to Mikey.”
“He wants to come visit,” Ashton says quietly.
“That sounds nice.”
“I know. It does. I want him to."
"But?"
Ashton blows out a puff of air, like he's smoking but without the cigarette. "I don’t know. I don’t want him to see me like this.”
“I don’t think he’ll care,” Luke says candidly. “He’s seen us both at our worst.”
“I know,” Ashton says despairingly. He’s still talking into his thighs, and hasn’t looked up to see Luke. “It’s just, I don’t know. I’ll be apathetic. I’ll be an asshole, and I’m trying so hard not to be. I don’t want him to think I don’t still like him. Just because I don’t know how to, like, work properly.”
“Ash, Mike’s known us for, like. Six years? Give or take?”
“And I love him, and I don’t want to be like this,” Ashton says frustratedly. “I hate — I don’t want to see anyone. Don’t you feel like this? Ever? That if you have to talk to another person you’ll just —” He tugs at his own hair. “It’s not fair to him. I told him not to come.”
Luke gets it, but he’s surprised to hear it from Ashton. Sometimes it feels like the fame is a forced half of Luke’s social life, contractually obliged to talk to everyone all the time about everything, and in response he has to shut himself away whenever he can or else he’ll commit murder. But Ashton’s friendly, personable; Ashton seems to enjoy creating conversation out of thin air.
“It’s just Michael,” Luke says gently. “He’s been like that more times than any of us can count. Hell, he probably invented the feeling. It doesn’t matter if you want time to yourself when he’s here. It’ll be nice to have him anyway.”
“I miss him,” Ashton says, and picks his head up to look at Luke. “Isn’t that fucked up, that I miss him? I miss Calum. I miss you.”
“I’m right here.”
“I know that. I know. I feel like I'm missing something and I don’t know what it is.”
“It’s not fucked up to miss your best friends,” Luke says. “And it’s also not fucked up not to.”
“We spend every fucking second together and it drives me crazy,” Ashton says weakly, “and then we’re separated and I miss everyone so much it hurts. Luke, if you hadn’t moved in I think I would have, like. I don’t know.”
Luke knows, but neither of them are going to say it.
“Hey,” he says. “I’m the one who’s lucky to have you, not the other way around.”
Ashton shuts his eyes and holds out an arm, which is an invitation, and Luke accepts, sitting down next to Ashton and leaning heavily against his side. Ashton drops his hand to Luke’s shoulder and his fingers brush up against Luke’s bicep, curling under the sleeve of his t-shirt, stalling there.
“Every second you’re not here, I miss you,” Ashton murmurs. Their heads are tipped together; Ashton’s staring straight ahead, and Luke’s looking sort of sideways at the fraying threads at the hem of Ashton’s t-shirt. “Maybe that’s crazy.”
“It’s not crazy,” Luke says quickly. He exhales. “I’m not, like...going anywhere, you know? I need you too.”
“Not as much as I need you,” Ashton says. He’s just like this sometimes. Blunt to a degree that makes you wonder if he’s being genuine. But Ashton’s always genuine. There’s not a truly dishonest bone in his body.
Luke doesn’t answer that. There’s no way to know whether or not it’s true.
“Wanna sleep with me tonight?” he asks.
Ashton nods. “I love you, you know?” he says, and Luke does know, but it doesn’t hurt to hear it.
“I love you too.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” Ashton says, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
“Of course it’s the same,” Luke argues. “How can it not be the same? What, you think I wouldn’t drown without you?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“Not now,” Ashton says, sighing. “It’s — sorry. I know I brought it up but not tonight, Luke. I’m tired.”
Luke rests a hand on Ashton’s knee and rubs circles against the fabric of his joggers. “Okay. That’s okay. Bedtime, then?”
“Think so,” Ashton mumbles.
They stand, brush themselves off, return to Luke’s room with arms loosely linked. Ashton crawls under the covers and Luke is close behind. This is a practiced enough routine that Luke knows his choreography. He drapes his arm over Ashton’s waist and the other under his head, and Ashton sinks back into Luke’s chest until it’s hard to tell if they’re still autonomous individuals or just one big super-person. One mega band member full of sadness and pain and despair and a lot of broken music. Minor key people.
“I swear we don’t have to talk about it,” Luke whispers, “but I love you, too. However you meant it, that’s how I mean it.”
“You can’t say that if you don’t know,” Ashton whispers back.
“Well, I love you,” Luke responds. “Full stop, no qualifiers. Even if you didn’t love me I still would.”
Ashton sighs. “Can we talk about this in the morning?”
“Sure, or whenever. Or never, if that’s what you want. I’m just telling you.” He flattens his palm against Ashton’s heart. Ashton covers it with his own hand.
“Okay,” he says softly. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Luke falls asleep to Ashton's steady breathing, and he thinks, terrifyingly, that he could get used to this.
#luke hemmings#ashton irwin#lashton#lashton fic#5sos#5sos fic#fic#my fic#i WARNED you it's emo as fuck#stuff#emo lashton
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